Everything Else
by I am Lu
Summary: "It's happening," Dawn told Zoey in a low voice. "They've set the framework for a new government; an election is coming." Zoey's editor asks her to cover Junia Stevens, the candidate running in opposition to Erol Adalet in Napaj's first national election. Spinoff of "The Ash Connection" universe following TAC II. Includes Snowpointshipping and Ikarishipping, among other pairings.
1. Prologue

Zoey felt her phone vibrate in her purse for the upteempth time that evening. Out of a combined respect for her company and for the formality of the event, she had been ignoring the calls entirely. Now, however, her patience had worn thin. Pressing her lips together, she pulled it out her phone and glanced at the caller ID.

"Hey, who keeps calling you?" Barry asked curiously from across the table.

"I don't know," Zoey mumbled. "It's an unknown number from Hearthome." Drew flicked his gaze sharply toward her at this.

"Well, maybe you ought to answer it," he suggested. Zoey gave him an odd look, but he ignored it as he rose to his feet and extended a hand to his fiancée. "May, let's dance."

May appeared delighted and nodded eagerly before rising too. They left, and Zoey exchanged a half-suspicious look with Candice, who shrugged nonchalantly. She was a poor actress though. Her lips soon split into a knowing smile, deepening Zoey's suspicions. She frowned; it annoyed her whenever Drew and Candice acted in collusion with each other, and it annoyed her even more that it happened consistently enough for her to become annoyed by it.

Nevertheless, Zoey stood up, excused herself, and took her phone away from the table.

"Hello," she started. "This is Zoey Williams speaking. _"_

* * *

"Zoey Williams." Zoey flicked her eyes up to meet a warm, though focused gaze. "What's your pitch?"

Zoey sat directly across from her editor—Homa was her name—in the haphazard circle of chairs pulled together whenever the trainer news desk met. Zoey was one of a handful of contest reporters.

She tapped her pencil against the notebook on her lap and sucked in her breath.

"I would like to write a follow-up to a _Coordinators Weekly_ story from January 2009," Zoey said. "They published photos suggesting that Barry Pearl and Kyle Tribaldos were dating. Tribaldos denied they were together and said Barry—Pearl—" She quickly corrected herself. "—'forced himself' onto him in the photos."

Homa stared, obviously expecting more. When she realized Zoey had planned nothing further to say, she prompted, "And… ?"

" _And_ I would like to follow up on it," Zoey said with a cogent dip in her voice.

Homa let out a short, incredulous chuckle—almost a scoff.

"Zoey, you and Barry are friends," she said dismissively. "It's a conflict of interest."

"Okay, fine." Zoey remained undeterred. "But I still think it's an important story, and someone at the _Hearthome Chronicle_ should follow up on it."

As Zoey spoke, Homa pressed a pair of fingers to her temple, rubbing it. "Important to whom?" she asked.

"Important to our readership," Zoey insisted. "Barry was about to become a _Sinnoh_ Frontier Brain, and his reputation was tanked by these allegations. He was essentially forced into declining the open spot. This story is local to our region."

Homa dropped her hand.

"No. Next pitch."

Frustrated, and still not quite ready to let go, Zoey continued, "Homa, I want to write something that matters."

"Good," Homa said tersely, "then we're on the same page because, quite frankly, I'm not interested in following up on a garbage tabloid's 'story.'" Zoey's lips tightened. Homa finished, "My answer is no. Next pitch. I know you came with more."

The air was tense. Every other reporter's eyes were on Zoey. But she gave a sigh of resignation and turned a page in her notebook.

"Yeah," she said. "The adoptive daughter of a Sinnoh G-Men agent turned 10 this year and entered the contest circuit; it would make for an interesting feature."

* * *

The sky was overcast; it was not raining, but everyone was wondering.

Zoey unconsciously clutched the steering wheel hard—not enough to pale her knuckles, but enough to signal she was mad. At least, it would if anyone was there in the car with her.

Her phone rang, its vibrations racketing in the cup holder in which it sat. Zoey ignored it, letting it go to voicemail. It rang again; Zoey glanced at the screen and saw Candice's name at the top.

The light was red. Zoey unfurled her hand from the wheel—then becoming aware of how tight she had been gripping it—and swiped her thumb across the screen before tapping the speakerphone icon.

"Hi Candice," Zoey said.

" _Hey!_ " Candice replied. " _Is this, uh, a bad time?_ "

"Why would it be?"

" _You kinda sound mad._ "

Zoey pursed her lips. She wondered: Was she really that transparent? It took less than three words for Candice to realize she was upset.

"... I got into it with Homa at the pitch meeting," Zoey confessed. "She flat-out rejected my idea for a follow-up on Barry and Kyle. She said it was a conflict of interest and that she doesn't want to follow up on tabloid rumors."

" _Ugh_." Zoey could perfectly envision the face Candice was making; it was very particular, the way she scrunched up her nose and twisted her mouth into a pout. " _That's dumb. I'm sorry._ "

"It's not dumb. Homa's right," Zoey sighed. "It _is_ a conflict of interest; I'd be wary too if I were in her position. I just… I've been working there for almost a year now, and I hoped I had gained enough capital for her to at least consider it. I should've known better though. I guess I'm more mad at myself than anyone."

" _Don't be,_ " Candice tried to assure her. " _You know there's more to the story, and you'd like to see it resolved. There's nothing wrong with that._ "

Zoey only hummed. It was a vague response, neither showing agreement nor disagreement because Zoey herself was not sure whether she agreed or disagreed.

" _... So anyway!_ " Candice continued with a cough. " _What did you end up pitching?_ "

"Your idea actually. The one about Agent Murray's daughter becoming a coordinator," Zoey said.

" _Oh!_ " Candice exclaimed, unexpectedly delighted she had been able to help. " _That'll be interesting._ "

"Yeah…" Zoey agreed, but her voice faded. "Not that I don't enjoy talking to you Candice, but is there a reason you called?"

" _Oh, uh, nothing really,_ " Candice replied, suddenly sounding a twinge flustered. " _I just missed you, that's all._ "

The unexpected sentiment fluttered in Zoey's chest. And yet, it came with a sharp prick of guilt, reminding her of the circumstances that surrounded their complicated relationship.

"I… miss you too," Zoey said. "I'm driving back tomorrow." She turned the corner. Her destination—The Burmy Bean, a small coffee shop—was up ahead. "I have to go."

" _What happened?_ "

"Nothing," Zoey said quickly. "I'm just supposed to meet Dawn in a few."

" _Oh! That's right. She just came back from Hoenn,_ " Candice said, relieved. " _Tell her and Lizzie I said hi._ "

"I will," Zoey promised.

" _Okay! Bye, love you!_ "

Zoey's lips wriggled into a smile.

"Love you too," she said. She pulled her car into the parking lot and tapped to end the call. The car engine's final hum faded as Zoey turned the ignition key. She paused only to briefly check herself in the rear-view mirror—presentable—before opening the door and sliding out.

Dawn was already inside, seated at a small table in the corner. A baby carrier lay at her feet; Lizzie, however, was in her mother's arms.

"Hey!" Zoey greeted cheerfully when she spotted her friend. Dawn snapped her head up and broke into a wide smile.

"Hey yourself!" Dawn replied, rising to her feet to give Zoey a one-armed embrace in lieu of the child she was holding. Dawn sat down again and Zoey hung her laptop bag on the back of the unoccupied chair.

"I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?" Zoey asked, spotting that Dawn's drink was already half drained.

"No, no," Dawn insisted. She readjusted Lizzie against her midsection. "I came early."

"Well," Zoey said resolutely, "I'm going to order then. We have a lot to catch up on."

* * *

"She looks so much like you," Zoey remarked, observing Dawn as she settled a fussy Lizzie down for a nap in her carrier. The comment gave Dawn pause, and she glanced at Zoey, who took a well-timed sip of her coffee.

"You think so?" Dawn inquired, looking back at Lizzie. "I think she looks like Paul."

"The older she gets, the more she looks like you," Zoey elaborated. "She's got his hair and eye color, but her face looks more like yours than ever."

Dawn's expression swelled with a glowing smile. Neither made further comment about the topic, but it strung a good mood above them.

"So what's new?" Dawn said, changing the topic. "Any big stories coming up?"

Zoey half-debated bringing up how her pitch about Barry was shot down, but decided against it as quickly as she thought it up. She foresaw a near-verbatim repeat of her conversation with Candice, and it would contribute nothing except to make her feel more frustrated and drag Dawn into it too.

"Oh, you know," Zoey said with a wave of her hand. "Same old, same old. I'm not the interesting party here. You are. How was Hoenn?"

"It was… good," Dawn said, suddenly choosing her words carefully. "A lot of big things happened—big conversations, big things in the works…"

Zoey guessed the direction of the conversation.

"So did Leaf have any explanation for her sudden marriage?" Zoey asked.

"Huh?" Dawn blinked, and Zoey quickly realized they were not on the same page like she thought. "Oh! That. No, not really. Er… She just said she and Gary got drunk and decided to get married by a Burgh impersonator at a drive-through chapel. I'm not sure whether she made it up or not, but Gary corroborated."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she and Gary conjured up a story like that together," Zoey mused. She decided to take another shot. "Iris must be getting pretty big, yeah?"

"Mm? Yeah, she's close," Dawn said distantly. "She's due in October."

Another miss. Zoey stared through Dawn, mystified. Dawn fidgeted, evidently a little uncomfortable under her friend's piercing gaze.

"What's with that look?" she asked.

"... Nothing," Zoey said, taking another sip of her coffee. "It's just, this is normally the kind of stuff that you get excited talking about. What's going on? Were there talks of a _coup d'état_ at the Champion summit?"

Her ending remark was meant in jest, but Dawn suddenly tightened her lips, and Zoey was flabbergasted.

"... Wait," Zoey said, deadpanning. "Please tell me no one tried to assassinate Max. We've been through that mess before."

"No, no!" Dawn said quickly. "It's not that."

"Then what's going on?" Zoey pressed. "No one's in danger, are they?"

"No," Dawn denied. "It's…" She stopped and surveyed the area, ensuring no one was close, then leaned confidentially toward Zoey. "This is off the record."

"This isn't an interview, Dawn," Zoey said, furrowing her brow. "... I'm not even supposed to interview friends."

"I know," Dawn said. "I just… I need your word you won't take this to your editor. There are a lot of things still being worked out, and everyone wants to make sure they've got everything perfect."

"I won't say anything," Zoey promised, and Dawn sucked in her breath.

"With Max on board now, they've started the framework for a new government," she said in a low voice, and Zoey's eyes widened. "An election is coming."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** It's here! You can expect forthcoming updates every Wednesday and Saturday. A big thanks to mizaaistom for helping me edit this story, captshirogane for always being there to bounce ideas off of, and kasuria for creating the cover art!_


	2. HEARTHOME CITY, SINNOH

**Daughter of G-Men agent enters, wins  
third contest  
**Zoey Williams, Contests  
Oct. 22, 2010

JUBILIFE CITY, SINNOH—Madelyn Murray  
was raised on the importance of treating  
Pokémon well.

Murray, who turned 10 and received her first  
Pokémon in March, calls it her secret to  
success. She won her third Super Contest  
ribbon Thursday in Jubilife City.

"So much of performing well has to do with  
you respecting your Pokémon and taking  
good care of them," she said. "If you don't,  
there's just no way you can do a good job."

Coming off a successful Appeals round in  
which Murray and her Chimecho averaged  
an 8.6—the second-highest of the four  
semifinalists selected from 20 total  
entrants—Murray swept her opponent,  
Jarod Buyne, and his Staravia in a  
two-minute Single Battle knockout.  
Chimecho's Confusion caused Staravia to  
hurt itself in a self-sabotaging move.

In the finals, Murray faced another two-  
ribbon holder this season, Abby Kintle,  
and her Pachirisu.

The battle was decided by the clock. Murray  
managed to edge out Kintle in points thanks  
to what judges called a unique combination  
of Thunder Wave and Extrasensory.

Murray credits one of her fathers, Cole  
Murray, for teaching her the consequence of  
maintaining a good relationship with  
Pokémon.

Cole Murray is a G-Men agent in the Sinnoh  
division.

When Madelyn was 2, he led a team that  
busted an illegal Pokémon-sharing ring  
rooted in Jubilife. Coordinators would pay to  
"borrow" trained Pokémon for competition in  
the area.

While the Association of Pokémon  
Coordinators does not explicitly disallow  
competitors from using Pokémon they do  
not own, Pokémon-sharing is classified as a  
form of Pokémon trafficking and is therefore  
illegal under Napajian law.

The ring was broken up, and the APC  
stripped 13 coordinators of at least one  
ribbon and permanently banned 11 from  
competition. It was considered a scandal of  
moderate proportion back in 2002—but  
Madelyn has no memory of it.

Still, she acknowledges the poetic justice in  
legally winning a Jubilife City contest nearly  
a decade after her father's work in taking  
apart the Pokémon-sharing ring.

"I don't remember it, but my dad has told me  
about it," she said. "When I told him I was  
entering this contest, he brought it up. It's  
kind of neat how it all worked out like this."

Madelyn plans to compete for her final  
ribbons in the Floaroma Town and Eterna  
City contests in order to enter the Sinnoh  
Grand Festival.

 _Follow the reporter Zoey Williams at  
zoey_williams on Chatot._

* * *

Zoey watched Homa with careful anticipation as her eyes scanned over the draft on her computer. Zoey had pulled a chair up to a desk covered in empty coffee cups and now hung near Homa, waiting with bated breath.

Homa reached for her mouse and dragged the cursor across the screen, highlighting one particular passage: "Murray credits one of her fathers, Cole Murray, for teaching her the consequence of maintaining a good relationship with Pokémon."

"I don't like this," she said bluntly. Zoey winced.

"Madelyn has two fathers," she attempted to clarify. "Cole Murray is gay."

"Not that," Homa corrected. "Your lede is about how Madelyn was taught to treat Pokémon well, not about how she was taught to form good relationships with them. They're different things. I also don't like the use of 'consequence.' It sounds unnatural."

Zoey pursed her lips and hummed in thought, realizing she had a point.

"Well, then we change it to say that Murray credits her father for 'teaching her the importance of treating Pokémon well," she suggested.

"No," Homa dismissed. "That just repeats your lede."

Zoey chewed on her bottom lip, wracking her brain for another rewording.

"'Teaching her the… value… of…'" Zoey started.

"Warmer," Homa encouraged, cutting the old graph and beginning to rewrite it.

"... responsible… training? ownership?" Zoey suggested. Homa was visibly unimpressed with these choices, so Zoey added, "Stewardship?"

Homa considered that.

"I'll take it," she decided before finalizing the emendation as "teaching her the value of responsible Pokémon stewardship." She reached for a coffee cup and pressed it to her lips, only to discover it was empty. She slammed it back down on her desk, muttering a "goddamit" under her breath.

"Homa, when was the last time you slept?" Zoey asked.

"2006, before I took over the trainer news desk here," Homa drolled. "I have to say, though, your Champion friends going public with their election experiment has really elevated my psyche to that of a vampire. The kind that don't sleep."

That was nearly two months ago. Zoey had kept her promise and stayed quiet about the new democracy, but only a week after her meeting with Dawn, it became public knowledge. An election commission had been established, and many had already thrown their hats into the ring. Mostly mayors of big cities—La Rousse, Goldenrod, Saffron—an Officer Jenny from an island in the Orange Archipelago, a board member of the Pokémon Connoisseur Association in Unova...

Most notable of the bunch—at least to Zoey, much to her personal chagrin—was Erol Adalet. He had turned in a letter of resignation as Chief of the Unova G-Men division to Iris prior to announcing his candidacy.

The first registration deadline was the coming Wednesday, and it was expected no one else would enter the race before then.

"That reminds me," Homa said. "After lunch, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"What?"

"After lunch," Homa repeated.

They finished edits, and Homa complimented her on a well-done story. It had taken a long time to turn around. Getting ahold of Agent Murray to secure permission to interview his daughter was more difficult than Zoey originally envisioned, but it turned out for the best anyway. The Jubilife City angle had a greater element of intrigue than anything she could have written earlier.

Zoey departed for the cafeteria, and Homa, presumably, went somewhere to get more coffee.

The lunch rush was just beginning, so the employee cafeteria was moderately busy. Many of the tables, empty at any other time of the day, had people scattered here and there. The half-dozen or so television sets mounted around the room were all turned to PNN, the broadcast news station of the _Hearthome Chronicle's_ mother company.

Zoey purchased a sandwich and picked an open seat across from Nikki Martinez, an acquaintance and entertainment columnist. Nikki was picking at a salad next to her open computer, obviously still working on a story. They acknowledged each other with a nod, and Zoey unwrapped her sandwich while glancing toward a TV. Her full attention was arrested when she read the headline: "BREAKING: G-Men Servers Hacked By Data Miners."

"What happened?" Zoey asked Nikki with a gesture toward the screen. Nikki craned her neck toward it.

"Oh, that!" she exclaimed. "There was a breach in the G-Men's servers. The Champions are saying no classified information was accessed though."

"Then what was accessed?"

"The trainer database," Nikki answered. "That's why they think it's data miners. They would want to try to sell trainer information to the election campaigns."

Zoey sucked in her breath hissingly.

"That's… not good," she said. The election was meant to mark a fresh start for their government and country, and already it would be marred by questions of corruption. She could just imagine the hormone-fueled fit Leaf was having right then (as Zoey had half-suspected, Gary and Leaf's sudden wedding two months earlier was of the shotgun variety—though the pregnancy wasn't public knowledge yet).

Nikki hummed in agreement but did not seem too invested in the conversation. She habitually tapped her nails against her keyboard as she scanned her own computer screen. Then, she paused and slowly raised her gaze toward Zoey. Zoey could not decipher the look in her eyes, but she knew she did not like it.

"Would you... mind reading this?" Nikki asked innocently. "I'm interested in your thoughts on it. Photo hasn't pulled pictures from the wire yet, but it's supposed to publish tonight."

Zoey raised her brow but agreed. Nikki turned the screen toward her, and Zoey pulled it closer. The moment she read the headline, she was tempted to turn the device away again, but she pursed her lips and powered on.

* * *

 **Slideshow: Top 10 power couples in Napaj  
** Nikki Martinez, Entertainment  
Oct. 22, 2010

 **10\. Roark Blair & Gardenia Rigores-Blair **

Who doesn't love a love story? Sinnoh natives Roark Blair and Gardenia Rigores met as young gym leaders, both recruited by then-Champion Cynthia Stone in 2000. The couple, according to Rigores, immediately hit it off at the annual Sinnoan Gym Leaders' Summit and became friends.

It wasn't until 2004 that photos caught the two holding hands in public. Later in 2006, the pair announced their engagement and then married in early 2007. Three years later, the couple is still one of Sinnoh's most notorious. Some say that if a trainer challenges Roark with Gardenia's badge in hand, they'll face the wrath of a husband set to avenge his wife.

 **9\. Kenny Hudson & Ursula Schoenberg**

We were all a little caught off-guard when Top Coordinator and beauty queen Ursula Schoenberg confirmed the rumors that she was dating fellow coordinator Kenny Hudson in a recent issue of _Coordinators Weekly_ , and some naysayers are questioning how long the relationship will last—but why? While Schoenberg is a definite "10" and Hudson is a solid "6," he also has a Top Coordinator title under his belt.

The powerful attract the powerful, right? In the end, we'll just have to see where this relationship goes.

 **8\. Juan & Fantina Gallano**

They say everyone deserves a second chance—and thank goodness widower Juan and divorcée Fantina Gallano got one. The couple met as gym leaders working in separate regions and initiated a long-term courtship that would last nine years, until they finally sealed the deal in 2008 during a private wedding ceremony.

Juan and Fantina are not only known as great gym leaders but also phenomenal coordinators. Both hold a Top Coordinator title, and they often act as guest judges in large-scale contests and festivals.

 **7\. Iris Ajagara & Cilan Griffith **

Although Unova Champion Iris Ajagara and Cilan Griffith keep the PDA levels to a minimum, they remain one of Napaj's most visible, and certainly most politically active, couples. They're known for publicly supporting a number of causes, including but not limited to environmental conservation and the ethical treatment of Pokémon. Both were also major proponents of the movement to establish a Unovan branch of contests not long after Ajagara's 2009 inauguration.

While there's no doubt Ajagara is far more famous than her husband of four years, Griffith happens to be a distinguished S-Class Connoisseur who recently co-authored a book, _Strengthening Relationships Between Trainers and Pokémon_ , with the A-Class Burgundy Myers. Parenthood is on the horizon for the Ajagara-Griffith duo; the couple is due for a baby girl this month after losing their first child in a miscarriage last year.

 **6\. Paul Rebolledo & Dawn Berlitz-Rebolledo**

Sinnoh Champion Paul Rebolledo and Top Coordinator-turned-Pokéstylist Dawn Berlitz-Rebolledo have always been quiet about their relationship. They're two of the most high-profile celebrities in their fields, so just imagine what they must be like together!

Well, we do know they have a penchant for creating adorable offspring. The couple welcomed their first child, Elizabeth Berlitz-Rebolledo, in April, and seeing the new mom and dad out and about with their infant daughter would melt even the iciest of hearts.

 **5\. Wallace & Winona Reyes**

Everyone loves a good soap opera, and Wallace and Winona Reyes are legendary for their rollercoaster relationship. Wallace and Winona began dating as gym leaders in Hoenn, but things went south once Wallace claimed the Hoenn Champion title. To the heartbreak of their fanbase, the couple split shortly after Wallace began his Championship tenure. What ensued was months of "will-they-or-won't-they?" teasing in their relationship.

The couple got back together for good in mid-2003 and finally married in 2006. Their happy ending apparently serves as an inspiration to other famous couples too, as Cilan Griffith once cited their example when explaining how he and Iris worked out some issues in their own relationship.

The story isn't over yet for the Reyes couple, either: Winona recently announced via Chatot that she's several months into her first pregnancy.

 **4\. Gary Oak & Leaf Greene**

If the name "Oak" is attached, fame is sure to follow—it was certainly enough for Gary Oak, the grandson of the monumental Pokémon Professor Samuel Oak, to win the heart of Johto Champion Leaf Greene, whom he recently married in a private ceremony.

Make no mistake, Gary does not live by the merits of his grandfather's name alone; he is a Ph.D. candidate in the paleontology program at Viridian University, has published multiple articles of his own original research, and was responsible for a major medical breakthrough in finding the cure for the Pokérus outbreak in summer 2009. Greene, meanwhile, is revolutionary as a Champion, having split the Indigo Champion title between herself and Ash Ketchum following a tie in the 2009 Indigo League Championship battle.

Unlike the many other famous couples on this list, Oak and Greene are very open about their romance, with public flirtation and teasing, even in interviews.

 **3\. Ash Ketchum & Misty Waterflower**

In a profile published by _Legendary Magazine_ shortly after his inauguration, Kanto Champion Ash Ketchum said he met Misty Waterflower on the first day of his Pokemon journey in 1996. She helped him save his Pikachu from a flock of Spearow, and he repaid the favor by… accidentally destroying her bike.

Romantic, isn't it? No, really. Let's get an "Awww" going. The two managed to reconcile their differences enough to begin traveling together, which they did for two years before Waterflower became the Cerulean City Gym Leader, and that brings us here to 2010: The couple announced just a few days ago that they're engaged and will be tying the knot in April after Waterflower Chatted an uncaptioned photo of her engagement ring.

Sorry ladies: The Kanto Champion is off the market. And an extra double-sorry to the gentlemen: Kanto's formerly voted most-popular gym leader in 2006 now-turned Elite Four member is the same.

 **2\. Drew & May Hayden**

There isn't a soul in all of Napaj who doesn't remember the Hayden-Maple contest rivalry. Their battles against each other—and their chemistry when pairing up for doubles—could not be described as anything other than "electric" in their coordinating heydey. And those battlefield embers translated well off the field. As hard as they tried to keep their relationship low-key, the whole world knew Drew Hayden and May Maple were dating by 2002.

The couple finally married in November last year. Nowadays, both work for the Association of Pokémon Coordinators and occasionally guest-star as judges in contests across Hoenn. Are there baby bottles and binkies in the near future? Yes, according to May in an interview on PokéMorning, who said that she and Drew do plan on having kids.

 **1\. Cynthia & Steven Stone**

Even the Haydens' combined three Top Coordinator titles can't top the original power couple. Cynthia and Steven Stone began dating during their tenures as the Sinnoh and Hoenn Champions respectively and married shortly after Steven stepped down from his seat. The union had all of Napaj celebrating—they're the first and only pair of Champions to marry.

Although their glory days are over, the Stones remain highly influential in Napajian politics and are outspoken on many hot-button issues that affect the nation. They also stay active in their fields of research: Steven is a successful geologist while Cynthia studies both historical and religious myths.

Their legacy will continue in their daughter Emily—proof that beautiful people can beget beautiful children—who will turn 10 next year and begin her Pokémon journey.

* * *

Zoey pushed the laptop away and tenderly rubbed her eyelids; mid-day exhaustion had suddenly, and perhaps not surprisingly, set in.

"I think it's… very long," she concluded. Nikki glowered at her.

"It's online-only. I don't have a word limit," she said. "Besides, I'm talking _content-wise_."

Zoey dropped her hand back to the table.

"You really think Ursula and Kenny are a bigger 'power couple' than Elesa and Skyla, or even Flint and Volkner?" she asked dryly.

"Huh… I hadn't thought of that," Nikki mused.

"Of course not," Zoey said lightly.

"Well, you're friends with them, aren't you?" Nikki said, and there lay the heart of the reason she asked Zoey to read the story. "You don't think they'll last?"

"I really hope not," Zoey groused.

Some time later, a text message called Zoey back to Homa's office, and she was happy to get away. She threw out her half-eaten sandwich—her appetite was lost, and Nikki declined the offer—and took the elevator back up a floor. Homa was behind her desk with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands, and Zoey knocked on the open door frame as a formality before letting herself inside.

Homa raised her brow to Zoey in acknowledgement, then looked back at her screen as she asked, "Have you ever heard the name 'Junia Stevens'?"

"No."

"Me neither," Homa said, "but she received the 2,000 signatures necessary to enter the race, and they were verified by the election commission. Her official campaign launch is Thursday next week."

Zoey let out a short, incredulous breath.

"Who is she?" she asked.

"A curator at the Eterna Historical Museum," Homa said. "Beyond that, I don't really know. But I want you to find out."

"Well, sure, I can cover the launch," Zoey said. It was outside her usual beat, but it was not anything challenging.

A pause followed. Homa focused her gaze on Zoey, and the air grew thin.

"I want you to do more than that," she said. "I want you to follow her on the campaign trail."

Zoey's jaw dropped. She immediately tried to speak, but no words came; she felt as though she had been sucker-punched in the gut.

"W-What?" she finally managed to stammer.

"All your travel expenses will be taken care of, and—" Homa started reassuringly, but Zoey quickly interjected.

"No," she protested. "I'm a contest reporter, and this is something that should be covered by—by—"

"Contests is your _beat_ ," Homa corrected. "But you work for the trainer news desk."

"Why is trainer news covering it?" Zoey half-demanded. "This is clearly politics."

"The politics desk is tiny and ill-equipped to tackle something of this magnitude. It only covers local elections because that's all there's ever been. Napaj has never had an independent, national election before," Homa reminded. A pause. "Anyway, the editorial board decided the election falls under League activities, so this desk covers it. That means anyone working for me is fair game for reporting on it, and that includes you."

Zoey clamped her mouth shut but looked at her with utter reproach.

"Don't give me that eye," Homa warned. "I like you, Zoey, but I'm still your boss." Zoey's gaze fell, and she sank in defeat. Homa frowned sympathetically and sighed, "I know it's a lot to spring on you so suddenly. But this is the biggest change in Napaj's political landscape during our lives thus far, and I need my best reporters on it."

"You have plenty of other good writers," Zoey said.

"Good writers are a dime a dozen," Homa said. "Good _reporters_ are harder to come by. And you said yourself you wanted to be writing something that matters. You _should_ be writing bigger things than contest recaps and rookie coordinator features, as good as you are at it."

"Like the accusations levied against Barry Pearl?" Zoey pointed out.

"Don't start with that again."

"Well, it's what I meant when I said it." Zoey straightened up. "I like my beat."

"I like sleep," Homa quipped. She added more seriously, "Zoey, you were the obvious choice. Everything else aside, you have the necessary connections with the Championship seats to do the good, thorough reporting this election needs. And you're young, unmarried, no children—it's a lot easier to send you across regions than it is to send your ordinary Joe when he's got his 2.5 kids at home."

Zoey frowned.

"A month ago, you called my connections a 'conflict of interest,'" Zoey complained. She more carefully added, "And just because I'm not married doesn't mean I don't have any… roots laid down here."

"You're not reporting on the Champions; you're reporting on the candidate," Homa said. "Regardless, I trust you'd have the integrity to still report fairly and objectively if you needed to make use of those connections."

"... Yeah," Zoey agreed. "Who's going to cover my beat?" She added a little extra emphasis to "my," and Homa smiled in amusement.

"I'm thinking Nikki Martinez," she said.

"Nikki Mar—" Zoey broke out incredulously. "The columnist?! She doesn't even work for this desk."

"She used to be a coordinator like you. She wasn't nearly as good, but she knows the game and can produce serviceable content," Homa said coolly. "Gee, I didn't realize you had such a _personal_ issue with her."

"I don't," Zoey grumbled. "She can keep the seat warm while I'm gone. You'll want me back."

"I'm sure I will," Homa said lightly. "Take the rest of the day off, enjoy your weekend, but do your research."

"I will," Zoey said, picking herself up off the chair. "Get some sleep, Homa."

Homa picked her coffee cup up again and held it out in a lonely toast.

"I'll sleep next November when this is all over," she said.

* * *

Zoey returned to Snowpoint much earlier than expected—and in a much more sour mood than she would have liked. Extra time together with Candice, even if only a few hours more, was usually celebrated; dinner had been quiet though, and Zoey went to bed early, saying she was tired.

Candice must have doubted she was sleeping though. And sure enough, ten minutes after retiring to her bed, Candice came upstairs and found that Zoey was laying in bed with her computer on her lap and Glameow curled up at her side.

"You workaholic," Candice teased, grinning. Zoey glowered at her.

"Work's kind of a sensitive spot right now, Candice," she said.

"Sorry," Candice said a little sheepishly, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. "I guess it's really just been a rough day, huh? First, the G-Men getting hacked, then Homa reassigning you…"

"The G-Men getting hacked isn't my problem," Zoey grunted.

"You care, though."

"... I do." Zoey sighed and ran her fingers through her hair than dropped her hand to pet Glameow. Glameow stretched her neck and began to purr in response. Candice pursed her lips and tilted her head to look at Zoey's computer screen. She was doing a search on Junia Stevens and had a word processor pulled up for notes. The list was sparse.

"You know, Zoey," Candice began after clearing her throat. "I don't mean to sound _insensitive_ or anything, but I'm not sure why it's such a big deal."

"Cyber security is always a big deal."

"Oh, not that," Candice said with a wave of her hand. "I was talking about you changing beats." Zoey lifted her eyes and stared through her. Candice took that as a cue to elaborate.

"Remember the day you decided to sign up for an intro to journalism class on DIL?" Candice began. "I thought it was super weird when you told me; I mean, it was cool, but it seemed so _random_. Then you explained why."

Zoey eased the laptop further away from herself, giving Candice her full attention.

"What happened to you when we were kids was… traumatic in its own way," Candice said, unable to come up with a better term. "Getting wrapped up in the G-Men… becoming a part of a massive cover-up… ? You hated it. You told me that you hated it because you hate dishonesty. And journalism is _all_ about keeping people honest when they don't wanna be."

"It's only journalism if someone doesn't want it published," Zoey murmured in agreement, quoting every journalist's favorite mantra. She finished with an appreciative smile, "Everything else is public relations."

Candice grinned again.

"See?" she said. "This is the kind of thing you've always wanted to do. This Junia Stevens woman could be our president! Someone's got to vet her. And there isn't anyone else who I think would do a better job than you."

Zoey bit down another smile.

"You know, Ms. Senior, I think I'll keep you around," she teased. "Sorry I've been so moody."

"I mean, I get that you'll miss reporting on contests," Candice said. "I know it's fun for you to travel around to watch contests and talk to coordinators… but this won't be forever!"

Zoey suppressed a laugh. Candice's infectious optimism never failed to cheer her up. Still, reality set in again, and she let out a long, depressing sigh.

"Well, it's not just that," Zoey admitted.

"What else is there?" Candice asked, blinking.

"I'm going to be gone for so _long_ ," Zoey said. "It's already hard now, being away most of the week and only getting to see each other on weekends. I miss you."

Candice smiled sadly.

"I miss you, too," she said. "But like I said… it won't be forever! This is an amazing opportunity for you, just like the CIU was. I don't want you to hold yourself back because of me. I'll always be here when you come home, Zoe-Zoe."

Candice held Zoey's hand in earnest, promising at least that much. Zoey's chest swelled, and they both leaned forward to peck each other on the lips. Candice stood up again.

"I have some papers to grade," she declared. "But let's hang out tomorrow, okay?"

"Of course," Zoey agreed.

When Candice left again, Zoey stared idly at her computer screen. There was little to gather about Junia Stevens online, so she supposed she would have to wait for Thursday. She sighed, closed her laptop, and reached over the now-sleeping Glameow to set it aside. The room briefly went pitch black when she switched off the lamp, until the screen of Zoey's smartphone lit up. She scrolled through her contacts and picked one out.

It rang.

" _Hey, Zoey?_ " the other end soon answered, sounding a little confused. " _It's getting kind of late in Sinnoh, isn't it?_ "

"It's not that bad, Drew," Zoey dismissed. "Listen, do you have some free time? I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

" _On the record?_ "

"Off," Zoey said. "It's not an interview. I'm just doing some research."

" _Okay, sure,_ " Drew agreed. " _What about?_ "

"I need a crash-course lesson in Napaj's political history, the implications of the election, and what you think we should be looking for in these candidates," Zoey said. "Think you can handle that?"

" _... Yeah?_ " Drew replied. " _What's this for?_ "

"I just thought I'd make you put that useless political science degree of yours to use somehow," Zoey quipped.

" _Ha, ha, very funny,_ " Drew said dryly. " _No seriously, what for?_ "

Zoey sucked in her breath.

"Well, I need to know," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "because it's what I'll be reporting on for the next year of my life."


	3. ETERNA CITY, SINNOH

**Roundup: Candidates for the 2011  
National Election  
**Zoey Williams, Election  
Oct. 27, 2010

The registration deadline for the 2011  
national election in Napaj passed  
Wednesday.

Seven candidates met the requirements to  
enter the race, which included obtaining at  
least 2,000 signatures.

Here are the candidates on whom the  
nation will vote to be the first Napajian  
president on Nov. 8, 2011:

 **Tom Waylend  
**

Saffron City Mayor Tom Waylend's life in  
public service began in 1991 when he was  
elected to the city council at 25 years old.  
Six years later, he became mayor in a  
special election following Jackson Salerno's  
resignation due to health issues.

Waylend ran on a platform of increasing  
economic commerce between regions; he  
and another candidate in the 2011 election,  
Goldenrod City Mayor Mitchell Sinternik,  
helped establish the magnet train that runs  
between Saffron and Goldenrod.

In a mid-September interview with _The  
Kanto Times _shortly after announcing his  
candidacy, Waylend said, "I'm more  
committed than ever to strengthening the  
economic relationship between our regions.

 **Greg Abel  
**

A former executive of the Hoenn Battle  
Tower, Greg Abel first ran for mayor of La  
Rousse City in 2000 on a platform of cutting  
corporate taxes to stimulate economic  
growth. He lost to technology candidate  
Carli Maundelban that year, and then again  
in 2004.

His third campaign in 2008 was a success.  
He edged out Maundelban in a controversial  
election weeks before the vote, the _Hoenn  
Daily_ broke a story that Maundelban was  
under investigation or allegations that she  
had pocketed campaign funds in 2004. The  
allegations turned up false two weeks after  
Abel was sworn in.

Abel's website makes the same promise as  
his three previous mayoral campaigns:  
cutting corporate taxes to strengthen the  
economy.

 **Carol Jenny  
**  
Carol Jenny comes from a long line of  
police work in her family. Her mother and  
grandmother both worked as police officers  
in Viridian City, Kanto; Jenny herself  
graduated in the Viridian Police Academy in  
1989 and then transferred to Tangelo Island  
in the Orange Archipelago a year later.

She became police chief of the Tangelo unit  
in 1997 and was instrumental in cracking  
down on poaching of endangered Lapras  
and other Water-type Pokémon in the area.

Jenny promised further crackdown on  
organized crime and Pokémon poaching in  
the statement announcing her candidacy in  
early October.

 **Mitchell Sinternik**

Goldenrod Mayor Mitchell Sinternik started  
his career as a public defender after  
graduating from Goldenrod Law School in  
1972\. He spent five years working on behalf  
of the city before starting his own firm,  
Sinternik Law, which famously worked pro  
bono on the Alice Caden case in 1981.

Alice was the wife of then-Goldenrod Gym  
Leader Propocio Caden, whom she shot  
twice and killed after an altercation in their  
home. Sinternik's firm defended her in the  
murder trial, alleging that Alice was a  
battered woman and killed her husband in  
self defense. She was acquitted, and  
Sinternik rode on his success to mayorship  
in 1982.

At a campaign rally Monday in Olivine City,  
Sinternik told his supporters, "I have always  
worked for the disadvantaged in this  
country, and I will continue to do so as  
president."

 **Connor Blanc**

S-Class Connoisseur Connor Blanc is an  
educator and member of the Pokémon  
Connoisseur Association's board of  
directors. He began teaching at the PCA  
Striaton campus in 1996 before joining the  
board in 2003 as co-director of program  
admissions.

Blanc's research on Pokémon abilities has  
been featured in a number of peer-reviewed  
journals; he published his first book, _The  
Hidden Abilities of Pokémon_, in 2006. Its  
third edition is scheduled for release in  
December.

In an interview with _Unova News_ , Blanc  
described himself as "the education  
candidate." He advocates for the  
privatization of public education in Napaj.

 **Erol Adalet**

In 1991, Erol Adalet began working for the  
Indigo G-Men division at 24 after spending  
five years as a police officer in Vermillion  
City, Kanto. He reported directly to Indigo  
Champions Agatha Johnson and Lance  
Grayson for 12 years before taking a  
seven-year leave of absence.

In that time, he traveled to Kalos and  
worked with The International Police to  
break up the crime unit, Team Flare. He  
returned to Napaj in 2009 to become chief  
of the Unova G-Men division under  
Champion Iris Ajagara, but resigned in late  
November prior to announcing his  
candidacy.

Adalet spoke with the _Vermillion Post  
_ Sunday on his reasons for running.

"I strongly believe in the separation of the  
government and League," he said. "This  
election in an important step in that  
process."

 **Junia Stevens**

A last-minute entrant to the race, Junia  
Stevens graduated from Canalave  
University in 1999 with a bachelor of  
science in space archeology. She began  
working as a curator for the Eterna City  
Historical Museum in 2006.

Her official campaign launch is Thursday  
outside the museum, where she is expected  
to share her political platform.

 _Follow the reporter Zoey Williams at  
zoey_williams on Chatot._

* * *

Zoey already knew what Homa was going to say the moment her name lit up the cell phone sitting in her car's cup holder. Zoey stared at it ruefully from her seat; she had just pulled into the museum parking lot, and she had half-hoped making the trip meant Homa was not going to call.

Well, that was wishful thinking, Zoey supposed. She picked up the phone.

"Hi Homa."

" _This_ _is all you could find on Junia Stevens?_ " Homa said immediately after Zoey answered.

"Yes," Zoey said straight.

" _What was she doing in the years between 1999 and 2006?_ " Homa asked. " _That's a glaring seven-year gap between her graduation and career._ "

"I don't know."

" _It's your job to know. The story is unbalanced. Stevens' section is thin compared to the other candidates'. Our readers will notice._ "

"I did my homework, Homa, and dug up as much as I could about her," Zoey defended. "But she's a last-minute entry, and her campaign is barely now getting off the ground. She doesn't have a website yet, and I couldn't find any contact for her campaign either. I wrote what I could—unless you would have rather had me beef it up with filler."

Homa was silent at that, obviously thinking. Zoey waited.

" _I'm giving you new homework then,_ " Homa said. " _You need to get the name and number of Junia Stevens' spokesperson—and you need to make sure they know your name and publication, because you're going to become quite familiar with each other. Also, put that Chatot account of yours to use and send out some Chats from the event today_."

"Will do," Zoey promised.

" _Good job on the other profiles,_ " Homa said. " _Goodbye._ "

"Thanks. Bye."

Homa, Zoey decided, reminded her of a flush of scalding hot water during an otherwise pleasantly warm shower. The comparison came to her naturally as the memory of showering a couple days earlier only to have Candice turn on the washing machine rose to the front of her mind. She smiled to herself, remembering how Candice had been so alarmed by her yelp that she skidded into the bathroom shouting Zoey's name.

Stepping out of her car, Zoey made her way to the front of the museum. The event was small and sparsely populated. A few bright purple campaign signs with the name "Junia Stevens" emblazoned in white stuck out of the lawn at haphazard angles. Some similarly designed balloons adorned the dark-brick wall. Several rows of mostly unoccupied folding chairs sprawled before the steps to the museum, where a podium stood. Zoey was sure most of the people there were other journalists.

The scene begged the question: How in the world did this woman clinch 2,000 signatures? Skeptical, Zoey nevertheless ventured forward seeking to complete Homa's assignment of the day: Find the spokesperson. She searched for a campaign employee—someone lacking a notebook, at least—to direct her to the right place.

She settled on a small redhead wearing a lanyard and holding some manila folders. An intern? No—Zoey shook her head—she looked relatively young with her round face and scarlet bobbed hair, but she wasn't _that_ young.

"Excuse me," Zoey politely interrupted. The woman turned, bringing her sharp, burnt red eyes to Zoey's. Now that she was up close, Zoey realized the woman might actually be several years older than her. "I'm looking for the campaign spokesperson."

"You're speaking to her," the woman said with a touch of impudence. She stuck out her hand. "Marinda Ortiz."

"Oh! That makes my assignment easier," Zoey thoughtlessly remarked, shaking her hand.

"Sorry?" Marinda raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind," Zoey quickly dismissed. "Zoey Williams. _Hearthome Chronicle_." She flashed her press badge as proof.

"Well, nice to meet you Zoey," Marinda said, hardly sounding sincere. She plucked one of the manila folders from under her arm and held it out toward Zoey. "Take this. I've been giving one to each publication. It contains a summary of Junia Stevens's positions, my contact, and an itinerary of our upcoming campaign events."

"Thank you," Zoey said, pleasantly surprised regardless of Marinda's disposition. This _really_ made her homework easier. She opened up the folder and flicked through a few of the pages until she reached the itinerary. She paused there to look it over more carefully; it would, after all, determine her forthcoming travel plans.

"So, Hoenn first?" Zoey asked aloud. "That's interesting. Is there any particular reason—" When she looked up, Zoey realized Marinda had disappeared. Zoey furrowed her brows. "Okay…" she mused with befuddlement. So much for building a relationship with her source. At least Homa would be happy she got an introduction and contact information.

Zoey turned and opened the folder again, deciding to dig through the other pages. She started with the positions summary.

* * *

 **ECONOMY**

The average Napajian is hurting in our lackluster economy. Politicians will suggest more of the same old tactics that never work: cutting taxes for the wealthy, offering breaks to big companies, and riding on the back of the middle class.

We need a fresh start. Junia Stevens plans to create a new economy that equalizes wealth distribution.

 **EDUCATION**

The current education system is woefully inadequate for our children. The Digital Institute of Learning is not sufficient for real learning, and parents lack choices in their students' education.

Junia Stevens plans to build a new education system from the bottom up with dedicated funding to creating new charters that emphasize STEM fields and bring structure to our schools again.

 **HEALTH CARE**

Pokémon Centers across the nation have served trainers well for generations. However—

* * *

Zoey's reading was abruptly cut short when she and another person accidentally walked into each other. Her papers scattered across the ground.

"Oh Mew," the other person, a young man with ruffled blue hair, said with apologetic desperation. "I'm so sorry." He bent down to help gather the papers.

"No, no," Zoey corrected. "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention." She picked up her folder and gratefully accepted the papers the stranger offered her. She shuffled them back into the folder and rose up while he picked her press badge off the ground. His eyes widened upon seeing it.

"Oh, _you're_ Zoey Williams?!" he exclaimed. Zoey squinted at him.

"Have we… met?" Zoey asked cautiously. She quickly wracked her brain for recognition, but none came. Was he a former source? She usually remembered her interviewees. Maybe a fan? That was more likely, but she was old news. Her last Top Coordinator title was earned in 2007, and she had been out of competition for several years now.

"No, I just recognize your name," he said. "You're one of the—" He suddenly stopped, his mouth hanging open at the last word. He quickly closed it. "Uh… you're… a reporter for the _Hearthome Chronicle_!"

He quickly handed her press badge back to her. Zoey sensed he didn't really know her from her byline.

"I am," Zoey affirmed, deciding to ignore it. "Who do you write for?"

"Oh, I'm not a reporter," he clarified. "I'm just here to see Junia Stevens speak. My name is Lucas."

Zoey cast her gaze around the event again. "Well, Lucas, you'd be the first," she said. Lucas craned his neck to follow her line of vision.

"Yeah, there's not exactly a crowd of supporters here, is there?" he said. "To be honest, I wouldn't exactly consider myself a supporter either. I was just in the area on an errand, and I decided to drop by to see what she was about. The whole community is interested in her since she's a scientist."

"The community?" Zoey inquired.

"Research community, I mean," Lucas said. "I'm an assistant to Professor Rowan in Sandgem Town. I found out about Stevens through him. Her petition to run was passed from facility to facility. I signed it."

"Oh really?" Zoey suddenly found herself fumbling for her notebook. She flipped it open, pulled the cap of her pen off with her teeth, and pressed it to the top of the page before looking at Lucas again and asking, "Do you mind?"

"No, it's fine," Lucas consented. "Anyway, in that sense, I guess it's not surprising there's no one here. Scientists attend air-conditioned conferences, not outdoor campaign events." He chuckled at his own joke while Zoey quickly jotted down his words.

"So do you think there's an—" Zoey waved her pen, trying to supply the appropriate adjective. "— _invisible_ base of support out there?

"Maybe? I don't know." Lucas shrugged. "I think people like me are curious at least—we're just waiting to know more about her."

"Right," Zoey said. "So, you don't know much about her, but you still signed the petition for her to run?"

"Yeah, but a signature isn't a vote. I think for a lot of us, her credentials were at least enough to give her a chance to run," Lucas explained.

"By credentials, you mean her degree in space archeology?" Zoey asked. Lucas hummed affirmatively. "So are you hoping she'll be the 'science candidate,' like how Connor Blanc is the 'education candidate' or Carol Jenny is the 'crime candidate'?"

"I suppose," Lucas mused. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for at this point." He smiled weakly. "First national election, you know?"

Zoey also managed a smile. "Yeah," she agreed. She tapped her pen thoughtfully against her notepad for a moment, then asked, "Lucas—that's spelled L-U-C-A-S, right?"

"That's right," Lucas confirmed.

"Last name?"

"Damon. That's D-A-M—"

She took down the rest of his information—his age (he was 25, same as her), contact, and other minor necessities—before thanking him and closing up her notebook.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Lucas," Zoey said.

"Same," Lucas said. "I hope I run into you again sometime—er, not literally though." She looked at him with an indiscernible expression. "Anyway, uh, I'll let you get back to work!"

He shuffled off, and Zoey cracked a smile before turning away. She seated herself in the section reserved for the press—it was the only place even remotely crowded—and waited. She opened her notebook again to jot down a few more things from her interview, then retrieved her phone to take a photo of the empty seats and stage ahead of her. She opened her Chatot app, started a new Chat, and attached the photo with the caption, "Sparse crowd at Junia Steven's opening campaign event this morning."

"Well, well, well…" Zoey's heart dropped into her stomach; she recognized the voice. "I didn't expect to run into you here."

Zoey kept her head low for a moment longer as she sucked in her breath.

"You know, Ciara, you're the only person I know who talks like a real-life cartoon villain," she quipped, slipping her phone away again. Ciara Skelley was a row ahead of Zoey, her head turned backward and her lips curled into a wry smile as if Zoey's remark were a compliment. Zoey nearly added that it wasn't but instead asked, "What's _Coordinators Weekly_ doing sending reporters out to campaign events?"

"I don't work for _Coordinators Weekly_ anymore," Ciara said curtly. "I'm now with _The Sinnoan Times_. You didn't hear?"

"Can't say I did."

"Well, I am." Ciara showed her the press badge hanging from her lanyard as proof.

"Huh," Zoey hummed. "Well, good for you. "Do you miss writing fiction?"

"It was fun while it lasted." Ciara shrugged. "But I've moved on to bigger and better things, like covering one of the candidates of our first national campaign."

The realization that Ciara was in the same press pool as her and would also follow Junia Stevens annoyed Zoey.

"With your history, I'm surprised they let you cover anything at all," she said. "I thought the _Times_ would've had more integrity."

"You know, I'm trying to be nice," Ciara snapped, suddenly sounding exasperated. "Yes, I worked for a tabloid, but I have the same training and credentials as you. You graduated from DIL, too, didn't you?"

"That's not the point, Ciara," Zoey said, her voice rising a little. "I don't care that you worked for a tabloid. I applied to _Coordinators Weekly_ myself once. I'm more miffed that your entertainment journalism targeted some of my closest friends, and in one case, destroyed his career, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm not feeling too friendly."

"Oh." A light of realization filled Ciara's eyes. "You mean Barry Pearl, don't you?"

"Yeah." Zoey clicked her tongue sharply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an event to cover." She changed seats, moving further down the row. Ciara shrugged it off and turned back around.

There was some movement on stage, and a hush fell over the crowd. A man with piercing cobalt eyes and blue hair cleanly slicked back stepped up to the podium.

"Good morning," he said into the microphone, which screeched with a loud, sharp hum. Some quick adjustments were made, and he continued, "My name is Satchel Thompson, the campaign manager for who will be the first president of this nation, Junia Stevens."

He paused, waiting for an applause. Some polite claps followed, but the press remained silent.

"It is my great honor today to introduce Junia Stevens to all of you," he went on. "She is a woman I have known and worked with for many years. She is one of the most brilliant space archeologists I've ever met. Her work has been instrumental in understanding this world and others. However, she has always had our world's best interests at heart, and I am confident she is going to help us make a better one. Please welcome: Junia Stevens."

Another polite applause followed. From behind one of the pillars emerged Stevens—a fairly attractive woman in her early 30s with dark burgundy hair that fell straight across her shoulders—the heels of her shoes making a distinct "click" with every step she took. She paused with Satchel long enough to shake his hand and mouth some words of thanks before she, too, went to the podium.

She inhaled deeply before she began to speak.

"Fellow citizens," she began. Her voice was dark but warm; the sound crawled up Zoey's spine. "It is my greatest pleasure to be here with all of you today. I am honored I have been granted the opportunity to run for your president and correct the problems that have plagued this nation for so long. This is a great country, but a great many of us are hurting: children with no parents, forced to turn to crime; poverty, starving the least of us; a generation of trainers ill-prepared for the world after their journey ends; overcrowded and underfunded Pokémon Centers; corruption running rampant among those we would hold in the highest esteem. What we need is a new beginning."

Zoey was beginning to sense a pattern. She leaned forward in her seat, opening her Chatot app again.

"I am that new beginning," Junia finished.

* * *

 **Junia** **Stevens Speaks of New  
Beginnings in First Campaign Event  
**Zoey Williams, Election  
Oct. 28, 2010

ETERNA CITY, SINNOH—The crowd was  
sparse, but the speech was passionate  
when Junia Stevens took to the stage  
outside the Eterna City Museum on  
Thursday afternoon.

Her message to the nation was simple:  
"What we need is a new beginning. I am  
that new beginning."

Stevens also took the opportunity to briefly  
share her views on crime, economic  
inequality, education, health care, and  
corruption. In particular, she discussed the  
need to "stop relying on past ineffective  
systems and look toward creating a better  
future."

Lucas Damon, an undecided voter who  
signed Stevens' petition to run, attended the  
event. He's a scientist like Stevens, and he  
explained his reasons for signing.

"I think for a lot of us, her credentials were  
at least enough for us to give her the  
chance to run," he said.

Stevens has a bachelor's degree in space  
archeology from Canalave University.

Stevens's next event is Saturday in  
Rustboro City, Hoenn.

 _Follow the reporter Zoey Williams at  
zoey_williams on Chatot._

* * *

Once finished reading, Homa paused only to take a long drag of her coffee. She emptied it, deposited it in the trash bin beside her desk—Zoey snagged it from the hallway and gave it to her so the empty cups would quit piling up—and smacked her lips once.

"Why Hoenn?" she asked. "What's Stevens going to speak about?"

Zoey opened her mouth.

"I—" She closed it suddenly. She was _going_ to say, "I don't know. The spokesperson disappeared when I tried to ask her," but seeing Homa's expression, she thought better of it. "I… will find out."

Homa gave a satisfied nod. Zoey retrieved her notebook and manila folder and slinked off to a private room.

" _Marinda Ortiz, spokesperson to the Junia Stevens campaign._ " Marinda picked up the call almost immediately.

"Hello Ms. Ortiz," Zoey greeted. "This is Zoey Williams from the _Hearthome Chronicle_. I want to ask a few clarifying questions regarding information reporters received at the event today."

" _Williams…_ " Marinda hummed the name thoughtfully. " _Oh. I gave you one of our press packages. All the information you need is in there._ "

"Yes, I did receive one, and I've read through it," Zoey said. "I just have a few questions." She pressed on before Marinda could respond and try to shut her down again. "What is Junia Stevens planning to speak about at the event in Rustboro on Saturday?"

" _Economic inequality,_ " Marinda quickly replied.

"That will be the focus of her speech?" Zoey asked.

" _Yes._ "

"Following up on that," Zoey continued, "is economic inequality going to be the core issue of Stevens's campaign?"

" _Junia Stevens cares about many issues, not just one. You can find a summary of her positions in the report I gave you._ "

"I understand, but I'm wondering if she has one main platform she's going to campaign on," Zoey said.

" _Junia's promise to the people of Napaj is to help build a better world for us all. That can't be accomplished by addressing only one issue._ "

"Okay..." Zoey paused to write; she was taking Marinda's words down verbatim. "Is there any particular reason for traveling to Hoenn this soon, then, when the campaign launch was held in Sinnoh just today?"

" _I'm sorry. I don't comment on internal campaign decisions,_ " Marinda said bluntly.

"Right. … Well, thank you for your time." Zoey closed up her notebook.

The call ended, and by the time Zoey returned to Homa's office, she discovered her editor had somehow acquired another cup of coffee.

"So?" Homa inquired once Zoey appeared in her doorway.

"I've brought you a grand total of seven additional words to the final count," Zoey said. "'Stevens's next event is Saturday in Rustboro City, Hoenn,' where she will speak about economic inequality."

"Makes sense," Homa mused before adding the phrase into the story. "Rustboro is an industrial city. The majority of the population are factory workers who probably feel like they're suffering at the hands of Devon Corporation higher-ups."

"You'd think she would want to build up her base here in Sinnoh though, considering she's actually from here," Zoey remarked.

"Stevens is the only Sinnoan candidate. She might feel like she already has the region locked up while you've theoretically got Adalet, Jenny, and Waylend all battling for Kanto," Homa said.

"So… might as well go to Hoenn and try to knock out the skeevy CEO candidate with the promise of economic equality and lock up two regions," Zoey said. "I see what you mean."

Homa smiled at her.

"I knew I made the right choice assigning you this beat," she said with just a tad of smugness. Zoey pursed her lips but didn't respond. Homa went on, "I'm sending this to the copy desk for immediate online publishing. Multimedia will put up PNN's recording of the speech with it."

"Great," Zoey said flatly. "Do you need me for anything else? I need to pack."

"What time does your flight leave?" Homa asked.

"I found one for 6:30 tomorrow morning."

"Well, then I guess this'll be the last time I see you in-person for a while," Homa remarked.

"I'm sure I'll hear from you every day."

"Oh, you will," Homa affirmed. "Regardless, have a safe trip. Do good work."

Zoey crossed her hands in her lap. She managed a smile.

"Thanks Homa."

* * *

 _Iris was just admitted to the hospital.  
Baby Cicily is on the way!_

 _Oh wow! How did you find out?  
Also, you're up late._

 _Lizzie's keeping me up. May told me_

 _How did May find out?_

 _Idk. I know you're a reporter but that  
doesn't mean you have to know  
everything haha_

 _You know me. Gotta get to the  
bottom of things!  
_ **Read 4:38 a.m.  
** …

"What're you smiling about?" Candice asked, grinning at her the driver's seat.

Zoey dropped her phone beside Glameow on her lap.

"Eyes on the road, Candice," she chastised.

"I'm careful!" Candice protested though she turned her head forward again anyway. "Besides, it's really late out. Nobody's on the road at this time."

Zoey rolled her eyes and turned her gaze toward the window as they speedily passed under the beams of yellow light along the highway. Her eyes felt heavy with exhaustion. She told herself she would sleep on the plane, but really, who was she kidding?

"So… ?" Candice prompted, snapping Zoey out of her thoughts.

"Hm?" Zoey looked at her.

"What were you smiling about?" Candice repeated.

"Oh. Dawn just texted me to say that Iris went into labor," Zoey said.

"Ooh! How exciting!" Candice gushed. "Hey, I just realized this whole thing means you'll probably get to meet little baby Cicily!"

"She'll be several months old by the time I get to Unova, but yeah, probably," Zoey agreed.

"I'm jealous. You always get to hang out with the cute kids," Candice pouted. "I mean, you get to see Lizzie all the time, and now Cicily!"

"You have your own cute kids," Zoey pointed out.

"They're not cute," Candice huffed. "One of them threw a bottle of glue at another student's head yesterday."

"Good thing I didn't start teaching that coordinator course," Zoey quipped. She smiled before adding, "You'll go back to adoring them on Monday."

They arrived at the Snowpoint City Airport. Candice slowed the vehicle as they began to enter the first terminal.

"Terminal Two, right?" Candice inquired. Zoey nodded, and Candice pulled up to the curb shortly thereafter. When Zoey opened the door, Glameow immediately leapt from her lap and stepped aside as Zoey quickly got out to get her luggage from the trunk.

Soon, Candice and Zoey stood a foot across from each other in front of the glass door leading inside.

"I'm gonna miss you and Glameow," Candice said, embracing her. Zoey felt herself choke back something in her throat.

"I'll miss you too," she said. "I'll miss everyone." Candice pulled back, cupped her face, and kissed her.

"Now!" Candice began after they broke apart. "Don't you worry about your other Pokémon while you're gone! I'll take _really_ good care of them and make sure they get lots of exercise. You just make sure you and Glameow take good care of yourselves, too, all right?"

"Oh, we will," Zoey said, glancing down at Glameow. She looked back at her trainer and let out a long, drawling meow.

"Also, make sure you call often, or _maybe_ that guy teaching across the hall will end up sweeping me off my feet!" Candice added.

Zoey scoffed.

"You mean the super gay guy?"

"Er… yeah…"

"I think I'll be okay then." Zoey smirked. "But I'll call every day, just in case."

Candice departed not long after. Zoey watched her drive off, then turned toward security while rubbing her tired and teary eyes. Glameow mewled at her trainer worriedly. Zoey picked the feline up and held her close in her arms while also managing to dry her tears with her thumb.

"Come on," she said. "It's just you and me now."


	4. SLATEPORT CITY, HOENN

**Junia Stevens Unveils Campaign Slogan  
in Mauville  
**Zoey Williams, Election  
Nov. 26, 2010

MAUVILLE CITY, HOENN—In front of a  
crowd of nearly 100 supporters Friday  
afternoon, Junia Stevens revealed her  
campaign's slogan: "Creating a better  
world."

"I am not a one-issue candidate," Stevens  
said at the event. "I do not want to improve  
one thing; I want to better our whole world.  
There is a lot to do, but I am prepared to do  
it."

Stevens's campaign has largely centered on  
"scrapping current systems of government  
in favor of newer, better ones," campaign  
manager Satchel Thompson said.

"The new slogan is fitting for this campaign  
and this candidate," he said. "We believe  
wholeheartedly in attacking the issues our  
nation faces on all fronts, not just one."

The reaction of attendees to the reveal  
was largely positive.

"Just addressing crime, or just addressing  
education isn't going to change much,"  
Rachel Daniels said. "That's why I like Junia  
Stevens. She recognizes that you can't just  
fix one thing and expect everything else to  
get better. We have to change everything."

Still, others remained skeptical.

"Of course there are multiple issues, but no  
one person can just wave a wand and fix  
everything," Rogelio Garcia said. "I want to  
hear more concrete policy ideas from  
Stevens than just, 'We should do this.'"

 _Follow the reporter Zoey Williams at  
zoey_williams on Chatot._

* * *

Zoey knew only two people who would call her before sunrise.

The first was Barry. Several years ago, he had mixed an energy drink with coffee and called to report he could "see sounds" and wanted to know how to make it stop. She had told him to drink water to flush it out of his system and hung up.

He later thanked her and said she was the only friend he wasn't issuing a "fine" to over the incident. Apparently, she was the last of a string of phone calls that morning. Most of their friends didn't answer at all; Kenny thought he was joking, laughed, and told him to go back to sleep; Cilan advised he see a doctor, which Barry determined was "useless" information; Leaf cursed him out for calling so early; Paul threatened that he'd ring Barry's neck if he called at that hour over something so stupid again.

The second was Homa. Zoey knew Barry would (likely) never make the mistake of mixing two highly caffeinated beverages again, and if he did, he knew the solution. That left one culprit.

"Homa, do you know what time it is in Hoenn?" Zoey yawned upon picking up. Glameow, curled up at her feet, made an irritated noise that her sleep had, too, been interrupted.

" _Have you read the new polling numbers RotoData released this morning?_ "

"No. I just woke up. You literally just woke me up," Zoey emphasized.

" _Then I'll catch you up,_ " Homa said. " _Stevens is now polling ahead of Abel by 2 percent nationally._ "

"Somehow, that doesn't shock me," Zoey said dryly, recalling his history of controversy. "Who's leading?"

" _Sinternik at 19 percent. Waylend's close behind at 18. Jenny is 14, Adalet is 13, Blanc is 11, Stevens is 8, and Abel is 6. The number of undecided/don't know stands at 11 percent, same as Blanc._ "

Zoey sat up in bed, stretched, and combed her fingers through her hair. It was no use by then; she was already up. Glameow had not yet resigned herself to the morning, however, and resituated herself to go back to sleep even in her trainer's absence.

"Even if Stevens pulled ahead, those aren't exactly impressive numbers," Zoey said. "Not even a tenth of the population is leaning toward voting for her."

" _Regardless, her popularity has grown,_ " Homa said.

"Marginally." Zoey yawned again. "What's the purpose of this call? Are you asking me to write up an article about the new numbers?"

" _Already taken care of,_ " Homa dismissed. " _No, I called to make a point. Stevens is rising in the polls, and we barely know anything about her._ "

"People don't care what a person is like as long as they say things they want to hear."

" _Maybe not. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't,_ " Homa said. A pause. " _How close are you with Marinda Ortiz?_ "

* * *

Zoey stepped lightly on her way downstairs, so as to not wake anyone else up. She winced when the wood creaked a little under her foot, but otherwise, so far, so good.

In the kitchen, she crept toward the coffee machine and started to make herself a cup. She was blessed one of her hosts was as picky a consumer as her; it meant he invested in high quality grounds, not just whatever could be cheaply pulled from the shelves.

"What're you doing up?"

Zoey jumped at the voice and spun around.

"Arceus, you scared me!" she exclaimed in a startled whisper.

Drew craned an eyebrow at her but didn't respond. Zoey had arrived at the Hayden residence in Slateport City, and having traveled all day from Mauville, Drew probably expected she would sleep in. May practically had a conniption when she found out Zoey would be in town, and she insisted she stay with them. So, Zoey made the extra effort to get to Slateport a little earlier than necessary, just so she could spend the day with them.

"And," Zoey continued, indignantly folding her arms, "I could ask _you_ the same question."

"Roserade trains best in the morning," Drew said with a shrug. "Synthesis works well."

"You're not even competitive anymore," Zoey pointed out. "What're you training _for_?"

Her words seemed to touch a nerve. Drew looked annoyed when he replied, "Look, it clears my head, all right? Besides, don't tell me you never take your Pokémon out for some exercise."

"All right, fine," Zoey said, conceding he had a point. "Sorry. I just didn't expect anyone else to be awake."

"Why _are_ you awake?" Drew asked, repeating his question. Zoey removed the coffee pot.

"My editor woke me up," she spoke as she poured herself a cup. "New poll's out this morning."

"Who's leading?"

"Sinternik."

"Not surprising."

"Do you think he's likely to win?" Zoey asked.

"Him or Waylend," Drew said. "Goldenrod and Saffron have done very well under them. I'll take either over Abel."

A hint of contempt rose in his voice. Zoey remembered Drew's father was the founder of the Battle Tower, of which Greg Abel had been an executive. She wondered if he knew Abel at all but decided not to ask.

"Well, Junia Stevens just pulled ahead of him by 2 percent."

Drew scoffed.

"I'll take her over Abel, too."

They moved on to other points of discussion, but the topic of Junia Stevens came up again unexpectedly at breakfast several hours later, when the rest of the household was awake. After May finished serving the Pokémon—Glameow included—their morning meal, she plopped into the seat across from Zoey whilst Drew set out a plate of scrambled eggs. She made a few morning pleasantries, then inquisitively chirped, "So, I meant to ask: What do you think about Junia Stevens?"

The question caught Zoey by surprise, mainly because she hadn't expected _May_ of all people to ask it. When Zoey stared and didn't immediately reply, May became apologetic.

"Sorry, I know you're a reporter and you're not supposed to take sides," May hurriedly said. "But I was just wondering, y'know, 'cause you've been following her pretty closely."

"May's been taking her civic duty very seriously," Drew said lightly, almost in a tease, as he set the serving platter down and sat left of May.

"Well, I should, shouldn't I?" May glowered at him. "It's a really big deal, our first national election! Ash, Leaf, Paul, Iris, and Max worked really hard for this, so the least I can do is give everyone some consideration, right?"

Zoey managed a chuckle.

"Yeah," she agreed. "But just because I'm a reporter doesn't mean I don't have my own opinions."

"Oh?" May perked up. "So what is your opinion then?"

Zoey leaned back in her chair, mug in hand, stirring its contents thoughtfully as she did. It was her second cup of coffee that morning.

"I think Junia Stevens is a very articulate woman who doesn't articulate any policy," Zoey concluded.

"So…" May started, processing.

"She means Junia Stevens says things that sound nice but have little substance behind them," Drew clarified. Zoey nodded. "I agree with that."

"Oh," May said. "That's too bad. You think so too, Drew?"

"Compared to other candidates, Stevens seems directionless," Drew affirmed. "People like Sinternik may be dry, but at least he has experience in governing and a concrete plan."

"He likes Sinternik," May informed Zoey irrelevantly.

"He's all right," Drew said coolly, trying to downplay her assessment. "He's not awful at least."

"I like Adalet," May then declared, to Zoey's utter surprise—Drew less so because he had probably heard it before.

" _Erol_ Adalet?" Zoey repeated, flabbergasted.

"Mhm," May hummed, nodding.

"You… do remember who Adalet is?" Zoey gently pressed.

Zoey remembered not being surprised when Adalet resigned from the G-Men to run. It seemed obvious, really, but she also remembered scrunching her nose at the thought. Their group's experiences with Adalet almost a decade earlier had not been amicable to say the least.

"She knows," Drew said flatly. "I've reminded her."

"You two are so unforgiving," May grumbled. "That was years ago. He was doing his job."

"At our expense," Zoey added with a sour chuckle . "He tracked us down, locked us—"

"—We were in the wrong," May protested, her voice suddenly rising. It fell again with embarrassment at her own temper. "... I mean, it wasn't our fault. We were kids. And, yeah, at the time, he was sort of preventing us from saving Moltres and Mewtwo. But _everything_ that happened was wrong. And everything that happened afterward was wrong. I mean, ethically. And y'know, I love Ash and Max and everyone, and they've done amazing things, but it's _wrong_ that unelected leaders are in charge of our government. It's why he left for seven years; it's why Iris welcomed him back. And really, it's why he's running now."

A long pause followed. May probably hadn't meant to become so serious, but she had gained Zoey and Drew's rapt attention, so she pushed herself to finish.

"And I think that his commitment to righting all those wrongs is more important than any typical policy," May said. "That's why we're having this election at all, right?"

Zoey pursed her lips.

"You know, May," she started, "you really are one of the most thoughtful people I know."

May smiled shyly, flattered, but was quick to move on.

"Anyway," she said, "I'm sorry for bringing it up. What time do you have to be at that fundraiser thing tonight?"

"It starts at 8, but I want to be there a little early," Zoey said. "I need to see if I can talk to the spokesperson."

"What for?" Drew inquired.

"My editor wants me to write a profile on Junia Stevens," Zoey said. "But to do that, I need a one-on-one sit-down with her."

"Ooh." May winced. "That sounds hard."

"Oh no," Zoey corrected. "I would prefer writing a profile than continue slogging through two-hour events for a 200-word brief."

"Do you miss reporting on contests?" Drew asked.

Zoey sucked in her breath.

"More than you can imagine."

* * *

Zoey was mildly impressed by the guest list at the event. Mildly. Most of the attendees were unknowns—moderately wealthy Hoenish people who were drawn to Junia Stevens for one reason or another—but there were a few household names.

One of the more distinguished guests was Professor Daniel Birch. He and his wife, Zoey learned after pulling them aside for a few comments, became interested in Stevens because of her scientific credentials. It was a sentiment Zoey had encountered more than a few times since her first interview with Lucas Damon.

"All scientists," Birch began with his famous effusive grin, "have a certain set of principles. They strive for knowledge—they strive for for truth. They are ruled by the use of logic. Facts matter to them. Those things, I think, are invaluable in a leader."

"Does it concern you Stevens has never held a leadership before?" Zoey inquired.

"You mean that she's not a politician?" Birch laughed. "No, it doesn't bother me." A pause. "Don't get me wrong—Waylend? Sinternik? Fine men. But I find myself nodding in agreement with Junia every time she talks about how we have to stop doing the same old things over and over again. In that sense, maybe our country needs someone who isn't a politician."

"Besides," his wife, Melissa, chimed in, "there's never been a president of our country before. It's not like anyone else has more experience."

"Some criticize Stevens for being vague about the policy behind 'creating a better world,'" Zoey pointed out, reciting the new slogan. "What are your thoughts on that?"

Birch withdrew his grin and bobbed his head thoughtfully.

"It's true," he conceded. "Some of her ideas are vague. But it's still early in the campaign. I have confidence her vision will become more concrete with time."

"So you're relying entirely on her ethos?" Zoey raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am!" Birch's grin returned.

Zoey finished taking down his words, then looked up again to ask another follow-up—but her attention was arrested by a pretty bob of scarlet hair across the room, and she stopped short.

"Thank you very much for your time," Zoey said quickly, closing her notebook.

"No problem," Birch said. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Zoey briskly made her way across the ballroom floor, through curtains of dark evening dresses and tailored suits, until she reached the woman in a sleek silver gown with a glass of wine held delicately between her fingers. She was on the brink of ending a conversation with a man Zoey identified as Captain David Stern, the now-retired oceanographer and founder of the Oceanic Museum, where the event was being held.

"Excuse me, Ms. Ortiz," Zoey expertly wove her way into conversation the moment Captain Stern turned away. She paused for Marinda to turn around, waited a moment longer, then added, "You look fantastic."

Marinda smiled warmly, seemingly flattered, but said, "What do you want, Ms. Williams?"

Zoey was slightly taken aback but managed to conceal it.

"You... remember my name!" she said.

"The scratchy-voiced woman from the _Hearthome Chronicle_ who calls me every other night," Marinda recalled. "Yes, I remember you by your voice alone."

The cattiness in her remark was grating—the thought persisted that she _so_ preferred dealing with young coordinators whose only flaws were naïveté and maybe a little ego—but Zoey managed a smile regardless. Were it anyone else, she might have made a snappy comeback, but she was still under strict orders from Homa to build a good report.

"Yes, my editor is very particular," Zoey said. "She makes sure we leave no stone unturned."

Marinda hummed, sounding unimpressed.

"So what can I clarify for you tonight?" she asked.

"No clarifications—yet." Zoey added that last word knowing she would have to speak with Homa again that evening. "I do have a request though."

Marinda tilted her head and carefully narrowed her gaze, indicating she should go on. Zoey cleared her throat.

"The _Hearthome Chronicle_ wants to run a profile on Junia Stevens," she said, "so I would like to schedule an interview—"

"—No," Marinda immediately rejected. Zoey mentally stumbled.

"You didn't even hear my pitch," she protested. Marinda turned away and started to walk off, but Zoey followed. "The _Hearthome Chronicle_ is one of the most-respected publications in all of Sinnoh—in all of Napaj! You know we would be just, and you know from the amount of times I've called you that I'm committed to accurate and thorough reporting. Junia Stevens is an unknown candidate, and people want to know who she is. It's to your benefit to grant interviews to news organizations, especially ones of our esteem."

" _Unknown_?" Marinda scoffed, spinning around to face Zoey again. Her hand swept across the ballroom. "You call this unknown?"

"This is child's play compared to the attention people like Sinternik are receiving," Zoey said bluntly. "She's polling at the bottom, and when Abel inevitably drops out—"

"—The answer is no." A dark, harsh voice emerged from behind Zoey, chilling every bone in her body. She turned and found herself just inches away from a tall, silver haired and eyed woman. These were hardly her most striking features, however; a large, sunken scar—from some sort of trauma, it appeared—extended down the left side of her face. Zoey's breath caught, but she said nothing. The woman flicked her gaze toward Marinda, who looked stricken herself.

"Come on, Marinda," the woman said. Marinda nodded quickly and scuttled after her, heading toward the stage. Relenting, Zoey could see Junia Stevens herself, in an elegant black dress, speaking to Satchel. It seemed she would address the crowd soon.

Zoey took a deep breath, still processing the events that had just unfolded, when she suddenly found herself, again, not alone.

"What was _that_ about?" Ciara Skelley asked, coming up beside her. She gave Zoey a once-over before adding, "You clean up nice."

Zoey ignored both remarks and spoke directly.

"Who is that?" she asked, discreetly pointing toward the silver-haired woman. Ciara turned her head, squinted at the woman, seemed to recognize her, then turned back to Zoey.

"I'll tell you if you answer my question," Ciara bargained.

"Fine," Zoey agreed, annoyed. Ciara smiled wryly.

"Jennifer Dey," she said. "She's an adviser to Junia Stevens. I don't know anything beyond that. We don't really see much of her, although, it's not hard to understand why. I wouldn't want to go out much with a face like that either." Zoey appeared unamused by the quip. Ciara continued, "Now you. What was that about?"

Zoey sighed and folded her arms, averting her eyes.

"I was flat-out rejected for an interview with Junia Stevens," she said. At this, Ciara appeared genuinely surprised.

"You too?" she questioned. Zoey stared.

An applause rose from the crowd. Junia Stevens was now front and center on the stage. She waved to the crowd with an urbane smile, and Zoey watched her carefully for a moment before her attention diverted back to Jennifer, who slunk off stage as Junia began her speech.

* * *

 _Story's posted. Make sure  
you send out a link from your  
Chatot account._

 _No edits?_

 _I did them myself. It was  
pretty straightforward. Did  
you speak __with Marinda  
tonight?_

 _Yes. I was turned down  
midway through my 2nd  
sentence. _

_Why?_

 _No idea. The Sinnoan Times  
was also turned down._

 _Hm. Stay on her._

 _Will do.  
_ **Read 11:27 p.m.  
**...

Exhausted, cold, and sore, Zoey pulled off her heels the moment she stepped back into the Hayden household—May promised they would leave the door unlocked and the light on for her—and dropped the shoes at the entryway. She was anxious to get to bed, where Glameow could warm her feet and she could enjoy a good night's rest before they had to depart for Dewford in the morning. However, upon passing by the kitchen, she noted a ethereal blue glow emanating from around the corner. She peered inside and noticed Drew sitting at the dining table with his tablet and a glass of wine.

"Hey," Zoey cautiously greeted, coming into the room. Drew tiredly rose his eyes toward her.

"Oh―I didn't hear you come in," he said.

"What're you doing up?" Zoey asked. She half-teasingly added, "You can't be both a morning bird and a night owl. That's just unfair."

Drew stretched his arms behind himself.

"Couldn't sleep," he answered plainly.

"Why not?"

"Dunno." Drew tried to shrug off the question. "I just wanted to make sure you made it back safe."

The sentiment was touching, but Zoey was skeptical. She sensed there were other issues. Producing a doubtful "Uh-huh," Zoey sat across from him.

"How was it?" Drew asked politely.

"No worse than a post-Grand Festival affair," Zoey replied.

"So pretty awful."

Zoey laughed aloud at the remark, which she quickly stymied with a hand. May was likely asleep. Drew himself suppressed a chuckle and twirled the wine in his glass.

"Want some?" he offered. At that hour, with her traveling plans the next day, Zoey knew she should decline, but she found herself nodding with a "yes" and a "thank you" before she could think it through. Drew stood up and went to the cabinet to retrieve the bottle. Zoey leaned on her hand, watching him, contemplating him.

She thanked him again when he poured her a glass and took a modest sip. Then, emboldened, she asked, "So what's bothering you?"

"Bothering me?" Drew repeated with fairly convincing ignorance as he put the bottle away.

"Come on," Zoey egged him. "Training to 'clear your mind'? Drinking alone minutes before midnight? Something's up."

Drew settled into his chair again and stared at her wordlessly—for quite a while, too, but Zoey held firm. Drew eventually sighed and let out a short, half-hearted laugh.

"I hate how astute you are," he said.

"I am a reporter." Zoey smiled in a manner that she hoped was disarming. It worked: Drew inhaled and leaned forward, ready to heave his issues onto the table, and Zoey mutually leaned forward to indicate her concern.

"... May wants a baby," he confessed.

Zoey was not sure what she was expecting to hear, but she did not expect that. It did not surprise her that May wanted a baby; rather, it was more surprising that Drew's confession was so… expected. Of course May wanted a baby. Dawn and Iris now had them, Leaf was expecting, and it was only a matter of time before May started itching for one of her own.

"I've heard as much from the gossip mill," Zoey remarked lightly, remembering Nikki Martinez's "power couples" article. Seeing how serious Drew was, however, she added, "Do… you not want kids?"

"No—I mean," Drew quickly corrected himself. "Yes. I want to start a family with May. I've practically wanted to since I was 15. That's not so much the problem."

"What is?"

Drew leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He inhaled again, the words seemingly on the tip of his tongue, but they did not come with the sigh that followed. He struggled with himself a moment longer until Zoey intervened.

"Drew," she said gently. "We're friends here."

That finally swayed him.

"My father was an awful person. After I... left home…" He obviously had adjusted his own phrasing. Zoey could tell there was more to the story, but she again thought it wise not to push him for elaboration. "I hardly spoke to him for more than 10 years. The most time I spent with him in those years was while he was on his deathbed. I genuinely hated him."

Zoey sensed the direction of the conversation now and said, "You're not your father, Drew."

"I know," Drew quickly said. "But it's been on my mind lately."

Drew's posture changed, and his jaw sank into his hand. Zoey folded her arms together and watched him uneasily for a moment, contemplating what she ought to say.

"... It's probably a natural thing to think about," Zoey eventually said. "Most any father would be nervous before the birth of a child. The good ones, at least."

Drew offered no reaction. When it seemed none would come, Zoey shifted in her chair.

"... Candice wants to get married," she suddenly admitted. Drew snapped his gaze toward hers again, surprised. Zoey continued, "She's wanted to get married for a while, I think. But… I can't…"

Zoey shut her eyes and rubbed her temple, unsure of how to finish that thought.

"I can't be the fully devout spouse she deserves. I'm never around. I keep thinking about quitting my job, moving back to Snowpoint, and teaching at the academy so she and I can settle down." Zoey laughed bitterly before adding, "But here I am. I feel guilty about it almost every day. I love what I do, but I love Candice too. … Actually, I don't think I even love what I do right now. I'm traveling all the time with this new assignment, and I feel so restless. I'm in a rut with my writing—I'm bored; my work covering Junia Stevens has become tedious after only one month—but I can't pack it in. Homa's relying on me, and Candice would kill me. She'd be twice as upset if I explained I quit to be with her."

She stopped there, knowing she had started rambling. Silence followed. Drew cleared his throat.

"... Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because I know you," Zoey said a little dryly. "And I know you hate feeling vulnerable, which is why you stopped talking. So I just bore my soul to you. Now we're equal."

Somehow, Drew found this funny, and he laughed.

"I don't know if I say it enough," he started, "but Arceus, am I glad I met you."

Zoey grinned.

"Back at you," she said. When the smiles and light chuckles subsided, Zoey leaned forward again and asked, "So? What are you going to do?"

Drew sucked in his breath.

"I think I just have to get over it," he said. "It's in my head. I know it is. And it would make May so, so happy."

"Not if she knew how hard a time you were having," Zoey pointed out. "She loves you. Talk to her about this. Tell her what you told me."

Drew scoffed.

"You ought to listen to your own advice," he said.

"Hm?"

"Quitting now is out of the question for you, right?" Drew asked. Zoey nodded. "Then just stick out the remainder of the election. You don't have to marry Candice right now, or even talk to her about all this now. She'll wait for you until then, and if you've truly grown miserable in your job, she'll support you leaving."

Zoey managed another smile.

"... You're right," she conceded. A pause. "And May will wait for you until you're ready, too."

Drew pursed his lips, but slowly nodded, seemingly agreeing. Zoey finished her wine and stood up.

"Thanks for talking—and for the alcohol," she said, "but I've got to go to bed. I'm leaving early."

"Yeah. Good night."

"Good night." Yet, Zoey stopped at the doorway and turned around again. "By the way… if it means anything to you, I'd think you'd made a great father."

Drew's lips twitched into a sort of half-smile, which was followed with a subdued, "Thanks."


	5. NIMBASA TOWN, UNOVA

**Carol Jenny drops out of presidential  
race citing family issues; other  
candidates react, offer condolences  
**Asami Nishimura, Election  
Jan. 29, 2011

VIRIDIAN CITY, KANTO—On a stage free  
of any campaign paraphernalia, Carol Jenny  
announced the end of her candidacy for the  
president of Napaj.

 _The Kanto Times_ reported Wednesday that  
Jenny's mother has been diagnosed with  
stage 3 breast cancer. Unnamed sources  
from inside the campaign told the  
publication that as a result of the diagnosis,  
Jenny was "heavily weighing her options."

On Saturday, joined by her husband, two  
children, and head staffers on stage, Jenny  
choked up when sharing her decision to  
withdraw her name from the ballot.

"I am humbled by the outpouring of support  
my family has received during this difficult  
time," she said. "Campaigning for the  
highest office in this wonderful nation has  
been an incredible experience. Meeting the  
people of Napaj, listening to them, working  
with them to address their concerns has  
been nothing short of incredible. However,  
thinking of the future of my family, I have  
decided it is time to withdraw from running."

The other candidates for the presidency  
reacted to the news of Jenny's withdrawal,  
offering both condolences and praise.

"Although we were opponents, I am  
saddened by the circumstances under  
which Carol Jenny withdrew," Mitchell  
Sinternik told reporters outside his office in  
Goldenrod City. "I wish her and her family  
the best of luck."

Erol Adalet, formerly a law enforcement  
officer like Jenny, applauded her work and  
also expressed his well-wishes.

"She has done incredible things in her  
career to ensure the safety of Pokemon  
and people alike," he said. "She would have  
made a fine leader. I wish the best to her  
and hope her mother makes a full recovery."

Saffron City Mayor Tom Waylend spoke  
briefly of the matter at the end of his  
campaign event in Ecruteak City.

"Before I close today, I want to acknowledge  
the news of Carol Jenny's withdrawal," he  
said. "Her years of public service will not go  
unnoticed. I thank her for running a  
respectable campaign focused on  
meaningful issues."

Connor Blanc released a written statement  
via his Chatot account, expressing regret for  
Jenny's decision but hope that her mother  
"Enedina Jenny, a long-time public servant,  
will make a full recovery."

Spokeswoman to the Junia Stevens  
campaign Marinda Ortiz said, "From the  
bottom of our hearts, we wish Enedina  
Jenny good health as she begins treatment  
and good luck to Carol Jenny in her future  
endeavors."

Greg Abel's campaign has not responded to  
multiple requests for comment at time of  
publication.

 _Jeremy Bunt, Marie Guadarrama, Anthony  
Lugo, Keion Thomas, Aiyalah  
West-Rosewood, and Zoey Williams  
contributed to this report._

 _Follow the reporter Asami Nimishura at  
animi on Chatot._

* * *

" _Wanna hear something funny a student did yesterday?_ " Candice posed the question abruptly in the middle of their video call, but Zoey wasn't the least bit surprised. That was how Candice worked: layers upon layers of tangents that somehow formed a coherent conversation. Zoey smiled, amused.

"You can always tell me anything," she said as she gave Glameow, who was sitting in her lap, a pat on the head.

" _So I did a project where every student was assigned a Pokémon type, and they had to make a poster about it. You know, what it's strong against, weak against, and why—that sort of thing,_ " Candice explained. " _Anyway, one boy was doing a poster on the Psychic type. When he listed the Bug type as one of its weaknesses, he wrote it was because 'bugs are scary to weenies.'_ "

They laughed together. Zoey loved these moments best, moments when they could just chat about silly things that didn't matter. She especially cherished them now.

Zoey's cell phone rang. The laughter died down as Zoey flipped it right-side up to check the caller ID.

" _Let me guess—Homa?_ " Candice teased.

"How'd you know?" Zoey asked with a weary smile. "Let me take care of this really quick. Sorry."

" _Don't worry about it,_ " Candice assured her. " _I have to go anyway. I have a dentist appointment."_

"Sounds delightful."

" _You know I'm excited. I'll talk to you later._ " Candice blew her a kiss through the screen. " _Love ya._ "

Zoey managed a chuckle

"Love you too," she said. The screen froze, a snapshot of the final moment before Candice ended the connection. Zoey stared wistfully for a moment before picking her phone back up, her expression growing more serious as she did.

"What's up, Homa?" she asked, brushing Glameow off her lap as she stood up.

" _I wanted to know: When you called Marinda for the quote on Jenny's withdrawal, did you also ask her about an interview with Stevens?_ " Homa questioned.

Zoey let out a long breath in disbelief that she was bringing it up _again_. It had been a good two months since Homa initially charged her with the task of wrangling an in-depth story out of the Junia Stevens campaign. Still, every time Zoey so much as approached Marinda, the answer was always an immediate—

"No."

" _And why not?_ " Homa asked a little impatiently.

"I don't know how many times I can ask before Marinda files a harassment charge," Zoey said dryly.

" _You've got the right of a free press to back you up,_ " Homa said. " _You need to keep pushing her. It should strike you funny that Junia Stevens' campaign refuses to let her talk. It should make you want to dig deeper._ "

"I'm doing everything I can, Homa," Zoey argued.

" _No you're not,_ " Homa said sternly, " _because if you were, I'd have a story on my desk by now._ "

"You're being unfair to me," Zoey continued indignantly. "This isn't me neglecting my job. No other reporter has been able to get an interview with Junia either, and out of all of them, I've been fighting for it the hardest.

A tense silence passed. Then, Homa said, " _I didn't say you were being neglectful. You did._ " Zoey's chest suddenly tightened. Homa continued, " _You're doing serviceable work. But you're not doing the work of someone who not even four months ago told me they wanted to write something that matters._ "

Zoey wanted to respond, but no words came.

" _I don't know what's going on right now that's caused you to suddenly slack on the quality of your content. Three or four briefs a week is a bare minimum. You're worth more than that. That's why I sent you of all people to cover this woman,_ " Homa went on. " _Answer me honestly: Are you thinking about quitting?_ "

The question shook Zoey.

"N-No," she stammered.

" _That wasn't very convincing,_ " Homa said impatiently.

"I'm not going to leave you hanging in the middle of the election," Zoey said in an attempt to reassure her.

" _I don't want you to writing for me if you're just doing it to appease me,_ " Homa snapped. " _Where's that Zoey who was fighting tooth and nail with me to follow up on Barry Pearl's fallout from the Sinnoh Battle Frontier? Do you still want to write something that matters?_ "

"Yes," Zoey said quietly.

" _I can't hear you_."

"Yes," Zoey repeated, louder and more resolved.

" _Then prove it to me and go find out what the hell is up with this woman and her campaign,_ " Homa finished.

Zoey closed her eyes and took in a cleansing breath.

"... Okay," she conceded. She could have offered excuses. She could have brought up Candice. She could have admitted she really had been thinking about quitting. But instead, she only added, "I'm sorry."

" _Don't apologize,_ " Homa said. _"I just want you to do the good work I know you're capable of._ "

"I don't know what to do from here," Zoey admitted. "I feel stuck."

" _You've been hammering Marinda from the same angle,_ " Homa pointed out. " _Try something different. Think outside the box. Maybe you can't get Junia Stevens to talk, but you can get someone else to._ "

Zoey hummed thoughtfully. The suggestion certainly opened up more possibilities, but she would need time to think about them.

"Okay," Zoey agreed. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Zoey liked Nimbasa Town. She did not realize _how_ much she liked it until her second trip to the Nimbasa City suburb, with the threat of death no longer looming above her like it had two years ago during the Pokérus epidemic. Her time with the Contests in Unova crusade was, to put it lightly, a stressful one. While she had enjoyed working with her friends, she was glad that period in her life was over.

She considered heading down to the Nimbasa Town Stadium, where the CIU had held its special contest event, just to see if there were any contests happening now. It would be a nice way to clear her head for work and, simultaneously, enjoy the fruits of her labor. However, she learned from an online event calendar that the stadium was presently hosting a Don George Club Battle tournament. A contest wouldn't be held there until next week, and she would be long gone by then.

Her interest diminished, Zoey instead headed to a nearby diner. Once inside, the quiet solitude of her booth allowed the predicament with Junia Stevens to push its way to the front of her mind. She mulled over the situation as she stared absently at the diner's extensive menu. The waitress had to circle back three times before Zoey was ready to order, and even when the food came, she barely touched it. Glameow, sitting on the other end of the booth, eyed the meal—some type of meat, the scent of which was enticing—but contented herself with the specialized Pokémon food Zoey had ordered for her, figuring her trainer would _eventually_ want to eat her own food.

Zoey, meanwhile, tapped her nails methodically against the table.

Someone to talk to. Someone who could—and _would_ —tell her about Junia Stevens. Someone who wasn't actually Junia Stevens herself, seeing as Marinda Ortiz wouldn't let anyone get anywhere close to her.

She needed to start somewhere. And she needed to start with the questions she had.

Zoey flipped open her notebook and began to write.

— _Where was Junia Stevens born? Where did she grow up?  
_ — _Was Junia Stevens ever a trainer? Did she go on a journey?  
_ — _Does Junia Stevens have any immediate family? A significant other?  
_ — _What did Junia Stevens do between graduation from Canalave University (1999) and beginning employment at the Eterna Historical Museum (2006)?  
_ — _Does Junia Stevens plan to hash out the details in her policy ideas, or will she just continue to share general sentiments?  
_ — _What motivated Junia Stevens to run in the first place?  
_ — _Why do staffers refuse to let reporters interview Junia Stevens?  
_ — _Is Junia Stevens aware of her base of scientific support? What is she doing for them?  
_ _—How does her degree in space archeology affect her political stances?  
_ _—What even_ _is_ _space archeology?_

That was adequate for now, Zoey thought, as she placed her pen down. She glanced over the list of questions, pondering who might have the answers.

Start easy. Zoey picked up her phone, did some searching online, and then dialed a number.

" _This is the office for the College of Science and Technology at Canalave University._ " A friendly, though very much robotic voice answered Zoey's call. " _For questions about admissions, please press 1. For questions about a specific degree program, please press 2. For—_ " Zoey pressed 2. " _Please hold while we connect you with one of our representatives._ "

Zoey again began to drum her fingers against the table as an odd though admittedly somewhat catchy jingle began to play. After a couple of minutes, a distinctly human voice answered.

" _Good afternoon, you've reached the office for the College of Science and Technology at Canalave University,_ " a young man said. " _My name is Aaric, and I'll be helping you today. What can I do for you?_ "

"Hello," Zoey said. "My name is Zoey Williams. I'm a reporter for the _Hearthome Chronicle_ covering Junia Stevens' campaign. She graduated with a bachelors of science in space archeology from your college in 1999, and I'm looking to learn more about your program and the field of space archeology."

" _O-Oh! Sure,_ " Aaric stammered out. Zoey figured he was probably just a student worker who had expected to speak with a prospective applicant and not a reporter from a major publication. " _Um… Let me actually see if I can connect you with someone who can better answer your questions._ "

"That would be great. Thank you."

At the sound of the on-hold jingle, Zoey fell down a Buneary-hole of bureaucracy. She was transferred from the program director to the dean to an admissions representative and somehow back to Aaric before ending the call herself. Thankfully, she had been able to piece together a decent understanding of the school's space archaeology program along the way, and that was more than she'd had in days. With newfound enthusiasm, she quickly began searching for her next contact.

Every ten or so minutes, Zoey's waitress would anxiously walk past to check if she had started her food. Once, she politely interrupted to ask if everything was okay. Zoey assured her it was and felt bad, so she bought a cup of coffee. It was horribly grainy, so she didn't touch it either. Glameow had long finished her meal and was instead staring longingly at Zoey's food, but her trainer remained too distracted to notice.

" _Good afternoon. You've reached the Eterna Historical Museum front desk. How may I help you?_ "

"Hello, I'm Zoey Williams from the _Hearthome Chronicle_. I'm covering Junia Stevens's campaign." Zoey had repeated the same statement several times over that afternoon, and it was starting to sound tired. "Stevens was employed at this museum as a curator before resigning to run. Could you please put me in contact with her former supervisor? I'd like to ask them a few questions."

" _Certainly. Please hold._ "

The shift for Zoey's waitress ended. An elderly woman replaced her. The sun was beginning to wane. Glameow, bored from staring at her trainer's now-spoiled food all day, had taken a nap. Zoey was _actually_ feeling hungry now, but when her new waitress took her untouched meal away and asked if she would like anything else, Zoey still refused. She couldn't eat while speaking.

"Thank you very much for your time," Zoey said after speaking to not the first, not the second, but the _third_ former colleague. "I appreciate it."

" _You're welcome. Have a good evening_."

Zoey hung up but continued writing in her notebook. The dinner rush was starting; Zoey could tell because the front of house was abustle with waitstaff seating incoming families, dates, and groups of traveling trainers. She was considering packing up her things and heading back to the hotel to make room for customers who were actually going to eat something—but then she heard her name.

"Zoey? Zoey Williams!"

The voice was familiar. Zoey perked up and turned in the direction of the sound and saw it was _Lucas Damon_ of all people.

"Lucas?" she inquired, blinking. He waved to her but approached cautiously.

"I wouldn't have expected running into you here of all places," he said.

"I could say the same to you," Zoey mused. "I'm here to cover Junia Stevens' event tomorrow. Did you come all the way out to Unova to see her again?"

"Oh no," Lucas corrected. "I'm actually on a sort of vacation."

"That so?"

"Yeah." Lucas nodded. "I came to see the Club Battle Tournament."

Zoey knitted her eyebrows together.

"You… came for a little tournament?" she asked doubtfully. Zoey could understand traveling to see a premier battling event, like a League or Grand Festival, but the Club Battle was very much a local niche.

"I know it sounds odd," Lucas said, letting out a laugh. "But I can explain."

At this point, Zoey realized Lucas had been standing throughout their entire conversation, which she didn't foresee ending anytime soon. Which was fine—it was an excuse not to leave.

"Why don't you sit down?" Zoey offered.

Lucas seemed surprised, and hesitant, but he eventually slid into the seat across from her, trying not to disturb Glameow's spot. He did anyway, and Glameow glowered at him before hopping onto the tabletop and crossing to her trainer's side. Lucas sent Glameow an apologetic look but directed his attention back to Zoey.

"It sounds backwards, but the reason I came is because I'm actually a huge fan of the Sinnoh League," Lucas explained. "I've watched just about every League on tape, have almost all the winners from each year memorized—"

He stopped and chuckled in embarrassment when he saw Zoey crane an eyebrow.

"—I know, it's a bit fanatical," he said. "Can't help it, though. My grandfather competed, my dad competed, and I competed. The whole family's into it. Anyway, the Club Battle is where a lot of serious Sinnoh League competitors come to practice leading up to the League once they've earned their eight badges. Sinnoh doesn't have a consistent tournament circuit like the Club Battle."

"Oh, I see," Zoey mused.

"It's weird, right?" Lucas smiled weakly.

"No, no," Zoey quickly recovered. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that. It's good to be passionate about something. Every winner memorized, though, huh? That's impressive."

"It's completely useless knowledge," Lucas acknowledged, now a little more relaxed. "But I guess if Professor Rowan ever needs to know the winner of the 2001 Sinnoh League, he'll have an answer in no-time flat."

"Who was the winner of the 2001 Sinnoh League?" Zoey asked lightly.

"Tobias J. Tatum," Lucas answered immediately. He then shook his head. "Man, that was one of the most incredible Leagues I've ever seen. It was the one where Paul Rebolledo and Ash Ketchum faced off in the quarterfinals, before either were ever famous—uh, as Champions, I mean."

Zoey tiled her head and slightly narrowed her gaze, bemused by the strange emendation.

Lucas continued, "It was one of the best battles I've ever watched. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time watching it live on TV. I wasn't competing myself because I was traveling through Hoenn at the time. Looking back, I sort of wish I would've competed in Sinnoh again. I would have loved to battle either one of them. They're your friends, right?"

That definitely weirded Zoey out.

"... Yeah," she said slowly. Lucas realized he was towing the line and coughed, changing the subject.

"Anyway," he said, "how's your reporting going? I have the article where you quoted me pinned up in my office."

Zoey found that a little more endearing and tried to shake off her suspicions.

"It's a grind," Zoey said, putting it nicely, "but I'm working at it."

"I can see that," Lucas nodded, indicating her notebook. The page it was flipped to was filled top to bottom with writing. Zoey managed a smile.

"I'm profiling Junia Stevens," she said.

"Oh? That ought to be interesting," Lucas remarked. "I'll read it. I feel like I still don't know a lot about her."

"That's why I'm writing it." Zoey folded her arms on the table. "I'm guessing this means you still wouldn't consider yourself a supporter of Junia Stevens?"

"No—I mean, yeah," Lucas corrected himself. "Yeah, I still wouldn't call myself a supporter. I'm probably gonna be undecided up until election day."

"Hey. Take your time, I say," Zoey said.

"Will do. Anyway, speaking of time, I think I've taken enough of yours." Lucas stood up. "It was nice seeing you again."

"Nice seeing you again, too," Zoey said. Once he left, Zoey tried to focus her mind back on work. She flipped back through several pages of notes to the initial list of questions she had written hours ago. Of the ten she originally posed, she had answered a grand total of…

Two. What space archeology is, and some of what Junia Stevens did prior to being hired at the Eterna City Museum.

Granted, she had answered them thoroughly. And she had plenty of extraneous information about the historical significance of space archeology, Canalave University 1996 admissions information, Junia Stevens' work ethic, and several of her former colleagues' experiences working with her. But two regardless. Not even a quarter of the total.

Zoey sighed and sank into the booth. Junia Stevens' former supervisor and all of her colleagues described her as a "private woman." None were quite sure where she was born. She didn't talk about her family. One mentioned she had Pokémon but didn't know if she had ever competed with them. And under the student privacy policy, Canalave University could not legally release any records about her.

She looked over the questions again. Who else could she ask? Where could she get this information? She tapped her pen against the table a few more times before inspiration struck.

Zoey picked up her phone and went into her contacts.

One ring.

Two rings.

" _Hello, Zoey?_ " The other end of the line sounded mildly confused.

"Leaf!" Zoey was happy she picked up. It was getting late in Kanto.

" _Oh, so this isn't a butt-dial?_ " Leaf asked a little wryly. It had been a while since they last talked one-on-one, and Zoey couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"No," Zoey said. "I have a question for you related to a story I'm working on."

" _I'm not going on the record this late at night._ "

"I'm not asking you to."

"... _All right then, shoot,_ " Leaf agreed. " _What can I help you with?_ "

"The G-Men maintains a database on registered trainers, right?" Zoey asked. "And it's updated each time someone uses a Pokémon Center or enters a contest, tournament, Grand Festival…"

" _Or League,_ " Leaf affirmed. Zoey smiled victoriously, but Leaf suddenly groaned and added, " _Arceus, you're not working on a story about the database hack, are you? I thought we put that to bed in October. Do you know something?_ "

Zoey straightened up in surprise. She had actually forgotten all about the hack into the database. It had fallen out of the news cycle, and she had been hyperfocused on Junia Stevens anyway.

"No," Zoey quickly corrected. "I'm working on something else—I'm trying to write a profile on Junia Stevens. The two are unrelated."

Leaf hummed, sounding unconvinced, but said, " _Then I'm guessing you're looking to request her trainer record._ "

"Can I?"

" _Yes,_ " Leaf said. It was the first "yes" Zoey had heard in a long time, and it sounded just as sweet as she hoped. " _Do you have a pen ready? I'm going to give you the email to Agent Charles Mook. He manages records. He'll pull them for you._ "

"Leaf, you're the best," Zoey breathed.

" _Don't you forget it._ "

"How long will it take?"

" _I dunno,_ " Leaf flippantly replied. " _Mook is like 200 years old and half-dead, so it might take him a week just to read the email._ "

"... And you wonder why your database was hacked?" Zoey asked dryly.

" _Shut up,_ " Leaf scoffed. " _Do you have the pen ready?_ "

* * *

Zoey finally returned to her hotel and picked up some extra food for herself and Glameow on the way. For Glameow, it was some treats for sticking out the whole afternoon in the diner; for herself, it was actually only some crackers and a beer, but it was sufficient. Sitting at her desk, she tore open the box of crackers and nibbled on a few as she reviewed her notes. Then, she broke open the beer, had a long swig, and picked up her phone for the umpteenth time that day.

" _Zoey, do you have any idea what time it is in Sinnoh?_ " Homa asked with yawn. Zoey wasn't even going to point out the hypocrisy.

"I wanted to report what I learned today," she said.

" _Oh?_ " Homa seemed more awake at that. " _What did you learn?_ "

"Not… much…" Zoey admitted. "I know what space archeology is."

Zoey half-expected Homa to scoff and tell her to call back when she had something more relevant. Instead, after a short silence, Homa curiously inquired, " _... What is space archeology?_ "

"It's actually pretty interesting," Zoey said, flipping back a page in her notes. "It's the study of human-made items in space for the purpose of historical documentation and cultural preservation. A space archaeologist studies satellites, orbital debris—that sort of thing. The program studies director for the science and tech college at Canalave, said it's also more than what we would consider _modern_." Zoey paused to drag out the word. "They also study items they believe may have been put into space from early human civilizations."

" _How is that possible?_ "

"They're not sure," Zoey admitted. "Pokémon like Clefairy and Elgyem came up quite a few times in our conversation."

" _Huh,_ " Homa mused, pleasantly enlightened.

"It now makes sense why Junia Stevens worked at a museum," Zoey said. "She's not the typical scientist. She's also a type of historian."

" _Right… Well, is that all?_ " Homa asked.

"No, actually." Zoey turned a page in her notebook. "I know more about what Junia Stevens did between graduation and working for the museum."

" _Now we're getting somewhere. Go on._ "

"According to her former boss at the museum, she was previously employed with something called GAG," Zoey said.

" _What does 'GAG' stand for?_ "

"He doesn't remember. He said it was a STEM advocacy group," Zoey answered. "I've tried to find it, but no luck. Typing 'GAG" into a search engine isn't very effective."

" _Hm,_ " Homa hummed thoughtfully. " _Well… Junia Stevens does advocate for increasing a focus on the STEM fields in education, so I guess that makes sense._ "

"One more thing," Zoey continued. "I put in a request with the G-Men for the trainer records of Junia Stevens, Marinda Ortiz, Satchel Thomas, Jennifer Dey, and myself."

" _All of those?_ " Homa sounded somewhat incredulous. She then asked, " _Why you?_ "

"You told me to go in-depth, and I'm doing just that," Zoey said. "I need a point of comparison between a file whose history I'll know and a file whose history I won't." She smirked to herself before adding, "And I think I know how I'm going to find out the rest of Junia Steven's history."

After Homa, there was one last phone call to make. She saved it for now not only because she wanted to catch Homa before she went to sleep, but also because she was anxious to make it. The rest of her story, really, hinged on its success.

" _Good evening. You're speaking with Marinda Ortiz, spokesperson to the Junia Stevens campaign. The answer is still no, Zoey._ "

"I'm glad you recognize my number," Zoey said wryly, twirling her finger on a piece of loose hair. "Shockingly, I'm not calling to ask for an interview with Junia Stevens."

" _Oh. What do you want, then?_ " Marinda asked, loosening up.

"I'd like to schedule an interview with you," Zoey said, getting straight to the point.

" _... Excuse me?_ " Marinda sounded suspicious. " _What are you playing at?_ "

"Nothing," Zoey assured her. "Look, I get it. You want to protect your candidate, and you don't want her talking to the media one-on-one. Fine. But the public still deserves to know about her. If not from her own words, then from yours."

" _... Good night, Zoey._ "

"N-No, please!" Zoey uncharacteristically stumbled over her own words, briefly losing her cool at the prospect on Marinda hanging up. "Please. Consider it." Marinda was silent. Zoey searched for her resolution again, then said, "Junia's event doesn't start until 2 tomorrow. Meet me at the little diner on 11th Street and Northern for breakfast. Let's say around 8? And… if you're not there, I'll respect your decision."

Marinda was silent a moment longer. Then, she repeated, " _Good night, Zoey,_ " and hung up.

* * *

Zoey had every finger and toe crossed when she walked into the all-too familiar diner a couple minutes past 8 the following morning. She scanned the area, her breath in her throat—and seeing no flash of vibrant, scarlet hair, her heart began to sink.

Then a break. In the corner, she spotted Marinda sitting at a small table, her eyes glazed over as she look at the menu. Zoey let out a massive sigh of relief and grinned before hurrying over. Marinda flicked her unimpressed gaze toward Zoey when she approached.

"I'm glad you came," Zoey said.

"I only came because I knew it would get you to stop calling me at every hour," Marinda grumbled.

"Regardless of your reasoning, I'm glad," Zoey said, sliding into the seat across from Marinda. Marinda sucked in her breath.

"Let's just get this started," she said. "Satchel expects me in an hour."

"Does he know you're here?" Zoey asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Marinda answered. Her eyes narrowed before she added, "What, do you think I'd go behind his back?"

"No, I—" Zoey breathed. She needed to be careful. Marinda could be touchy. "Sorry." She pulled out her notebook and set her cell phone on the table. After she opened her audio app to record their conversation, she paused long enough to look at Marinda and ask, "Are you fine with this?"

"Sure," Marinda said wearily. Zoey turned pressed "record" and straightened up

"Let's start with you," she began. "Where do you come from? Where were you born?"

"I'm Sinnoh-bred," Marinda answered. "I was born and raised in Oreburgh City. Most of the staff is Sinnoan."

"Oh? Why's that?" Zoey craned an eyebrow.

"Well, it's not like there's a _conspiracy_ behind it," Marinda huffed. "Junia Stevens was not a politician before deciding to run. Most of the staff is made up of people she knows. She's also from Sinnoh, so a lot of the people in the campaign are, too."

"Do you know where in Sinnoh?" Zoey asked.

"Not off the top of my head."

Zoey pursed her lips. She had been _so close_ to getting another of her original questions answered, but it was no matter.

"So… what I'm hearing is that you knew Junia before the campaign?" Zoey probed. Marinda nodded. "How did you meet?"

"She was a junior when I was a freshman at Canalave University," Marinda replied. That was an interesting detail, Zoey thought. They attended college together. Then Marinda added, "We worked together."

That was far more interesting.

"Did you both work for GAG?" Zoey asked.

"Wh… What?" Marinda straightened up. Zoey repeated the question, and Marinda seemed unsure of how to answer, igniting Zoey's suspicions. She narrowed her gaze.

"... What does GAG stand for?" she asked carefully.

"GAG?" Marinda blinked. "GAG… It stands for—stands for nothing."

"Nothing?" Zoey repeated, surprised. Marinda seemed to settle down again.

"GAG is a STEM-field advocacy group," she said. "It lobbies for increased funding in STEM programs and interests, which are deeply underappreciated by society. That's why it's called GAG—as in, there's a 'gag' on STEM research in favor of petty political interests. Satchel, Junia, and I were all members." After a brief pause, Marinda added, "I didn't mean to sound so shocked. I was just surprised you knew, since it was so long ago."

With only a few sentences, Marinda had deftly painted a clearer picture of Junia Stevens' reasons for running and how she had initially managed to build her base of support. The feeling that the sciences were underrepresented and unsupported was apparently a universal feeling among the entire research community, and Junia Stevens encapsulated that. Zoey was more than satisfied.

"I spoke with Junia's former employer yesterday," Zoey explained. "That's how I found out about it. It must have been on her resume, or she must have mentioned it to him at some point."

"Must have," Marinda mused.

"So you, Junia, and Satchel all worked for GAG…" Zoey repeated. Marinda nodded. "What about Jennifer Dey?"

"Oh no." Marinda shook her head. "She's different."

"Different? Different how?" Zoey asked.

"I'd rather not talk about Jennifer," Marinda quickly dismissed.

Zoey straightened up at that, about to press on why—but then the waitress, the same one that had first served Zoey the day before, came by to take orders. Marinda only asked for a drink, and Zoey ended up ordering the same thing as yesterday, but this time with the intention of actually eating it. It _had_ looked good before she ended up getting sucked into her work.

The interview continued on. Zoey dropped the subject of Jennifer Dey, but now, she couldn't shake the image of Marinda's face when Jennifer had interrupted them at that Slateport fundraiser more than two months ago.

For whatever reason, Zoey realized, Jennifer Dey didn't sit well with Marinda either.


	6. OPELUCID CITY, UNOVA

**Greg Abel denies allegations of sexual  
misconduct, continues with plans for  
Unova campaign events  
**Anthony Lugo, Election  
Feb. 15, 2011

NIMBASA CITY, UNOVA—While speaking  
to reporters outside his hotel Friday  
morning, Greg Abel broke his silence on  
recent allegations of sexual misconduct,  
denying that he has ever behaved  
"inappropriately with women."

"These false accusations are an effort by  
my political opponents to undermine what  
I stand for," Abel said. "It is, furthermore,  
a distraction by the news media. It will not  
slow down any planned campaign events as  
some outlets have suggested."

Abel's troubles began with a bombshell  
news report published Thursday in the  
 _Hoenn Chronicle_ , in which former Battle  
Tower employee Katarina Schaff described  
Abel allegedly flirting with young female  
subordinates, herself included, and making  
sexually suggestive comments in the office.

Schaff also described an incident in which  
Abel touched her knees, thighs, and  
buttocks at an office party and pressured  
her to come home with him. Schaff was a  
17-year-old intern at the time.

The revelations sparked outrage online, with  
the hashtag #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt  
trending on Chatot. The online movement has  
even drawn the attention of several prominent  
trainers and other important figures, including  
Abel's fellow La Rousse native, Drew Hayden.

"Why am I not surprised? #NotAbelToGet  
AwayWithIt" Hayden Chatted with a link to  
the _Hoenn Chronicle_ 's article.

Meanwhile, Rustboro City Gym Leader  
Roxanne Neill Chatted, "Unacceptable. Abel  
should drop out. #NotAbelToGetAwayWith  
It."

Others have been willing to give Abel a  
slight reprieve. Sinnoh Frontier Brain  
Thorton Cardus Chatted, "As alarmed as we  
should be by the new _Hoenn Chronicle  
_ report on Greg Abel, we must remember that  
there are two sides to every story."

Despite the developing story, Abel's  
campaign event in Opelucid City is still  
scheduled to begin Saturday evening.

 _Follow the reporter Anthony Lugo at  
ant_lugo on Chatot._

* * *

"So how is it that you ended up Junia's campaign manager?" Zoey asked, her pen still moving across the page as she finished up her notes from Satchel's last reply. "I know you two met each other through GAG, but that was more than a decade ago."

Satchel—sitting across from Zoey in a diner akin to the one where she and Marinda had met weeks earlier—did not hesitate in his response.

"It was my idea that she run, actually. I reached out to her and Marinda after I heard the news that the League was commissioning the election. It took a while to get things off the ground, but we did, and I naturally fell into the role of campaign manager."

"Why didn't you run, then?"

Satchel gave a small shrug, then said, "Junia was just the right fit for it of the three of us."

His answer intrigued Zoey. "So this campaign is—" She made a circular gesture with her hand. "—very much a mutual partnership between the three of you?"

"You could say that," Satchel conceded. "Junia, Marinda, and myself share near-identical ideals from our days in GAG."

"Uh-huh…" Zoey trailed off. "So, then, how does Dey fit into this?"

"Jennifer?" Satchel inquired, and Zoey nodded. "She, well…" He struggled for an answer, and Zoey knitted her eyebrows together; it was the first question on which he had wavered "She has certain skills and connections that I, Junia, and Marinda lack."

"Like?" Zoey prodded him.

"She's… politically savvy," Satchel said, and Zoey sensed this was a glazed answer. He then added, a little quickly, "It was actually Junia's idea to approach her."

Zoey hummed.

"Well, I don't suppose you would be able to help me set up a contact with her?"

"That's Marinda's field," Satchel said.

"I understand, but Marinda has indicated she's not willing to set up that contact," Zoey said. It was a bit of an understatement: Marinda had rather unsubtly implied she wanted nothing to do with Jennifer Dey.

"Then that's Marinda's prerogative," Satchel further deflected. Zoey had somewhat expected this response, but she still felt the sting of disappointment—and of frustration.

"I see," was all she said. A pause followed, and then, rising to her feet and extending her hand, she added, "Well, thank you very much for your time."

Satchel rose to shake her hand.

"The pleasure was mine," he said. "I presume I'll see you at tonight's event?

Zoey smiled wearily.

"Yes, you will."

* * *

Zoey leaned close to her hotel vanity as she guided the mascara brush through her lashes in long, careful strokes. She was almost finished, but her eye was on the time. Junia Stevens's event began in a half-hour, and though it was only a ten-minute walk to the venue, she wanted to be early.

Just as she slid her brush back into its tube, her phone chimed—a new email. She picked up the phone to check it and let out a long, placated sigh.

" _Finally._ "She opened up the email and the attached file. She only skimmed through it, but immediately she knew something was off. She furrowed her eyebrows, closed the attachment, read through the email more closely, then closed the whole app and opened up her messenger.

 _Update: Charles Mook finally  
sent me the files for Junia  
Stevens and her subordinates._

 _Good to hear. I'll expect that  
story from you soon then, as  
soon as you interview Dey._  
 _  
About that: Dey doesn't have  
a file.  
_ **Delivered**

After sending this message, Zoey checked the time once again. She needed to leave. She picked up Glameow's Poké Ball and turned to the Pokémon lazing on her bed.

"Come on, it's time to go," she said. Glameow glowered at her.

"You know the rules. I can't just leave you here," she said. Glameow stretched and stood up, willing herself to be let back into her Poké Ball. Zoey stowed it in her purse and promptly headed out the door, where she received Homa's follow-up text.

 _Did your contact forget to  
send it?_

 _No. He actually wrote in his  
email that she does not show  
up in the G-Men's database._

 _Hm. Go back to Leaf and ask  
how unusual it is for a name  
to be absent from the system.  
You ought to bring it up with  
Dey, too._

 _Noted.  
_ **Read 6:36 p.m.  
**...

Zoey was already down the elevator and on her way out the door when she finished up her conversation with Homa. As soon as she stepped outside, however, an involuntary shiver wracked her spine and caused her to pull her coat tighter around herself. The air had a sharp bite that immediately dried her throat and eyes. Although she was a Snowpoint native, she had little tolerance for the brutal windchill of Icirrus City.

Yet, there was no time to waste. As she started down the sidewalk, she closed her messenger app and opened up her contacts. With a deft couple swipes, she made it to the Gs, and Leaf's phone was ringing.

" _What can I help you with, Zoey?_ " Leaf asked immediately after picking up. Zoey smirked, just a little, appreciative of Leaf's promptness, despite her presumption Zoey was only calling for a favor—even if she wasn't wrong.

"Your man finally sent me those files," Zoey remarked.

" _What files?_ "

"The files I asked you about three weeks ago."

" _Arceus, I forgot about that._ "

"I guess you weren't kidding when you said Mook was half-dead."

" _What, so are you filing a complaint? It'll go to the same place as all other complaints: the trash._ " Leaf paused. " _Don't quote me on that. That was a joke._ "

Zoey forced a laughed that quickly dissolved into a sigh.

"No, I'm not complaining," she said. "I just have a couple questions."

" _On or off the record_?"

"Off," Zoey answered. "This is just for my own information."

" _O-kay_. _Go ahead, then_."

"How extensive is the G-Men's database? Like, how many people are in it?"

" _Millions,_ " Leaf said. " _I can't give you an exact number off the top of my head._ "

"That's fine," Zoey dismissed. "But it covers a broad spectrum of the population?"

" _Well, yeah_ ," Leaf answered plainly, as if it were obvious. " _Who do you know who hasn't used a Pokémon Center?_ "

"Point taken."

A pause followed in the conversation—a mistake, Zoey realized, for the pause was just long enough to give Leaf a chance to think further on the implications of Zoey's inquiry. Her tone of her voice shifted, just slightly, and she asked, " _What's this for?_ "

"Like I said, just for my own information," Zoey hastily answered. "I want to make sure I understand the context of the files Mook sent me before I use them in my reporting."

Zoey mentally crossed every finger and toe that this response would satisfy Leaf. After another pause, it finally did.

" _Well, all right,_ " Leaf said. " _Is that all?_ "

"That's it," Zoey affirmed. "Thank you for your help."

" _Good luck with the story_."

"Thanks. I'll talk to you later."

Zoey hung up and held the phone close to her chest with a breath of relief. It was for the better Leaf didn't know about Dey's absent file if it was an anomaly, at least for now. Zoey couldn't be sure, but she imagined Leaf was probably still agitated about the database hack several months ago, and a missing file would ruffle her sensibilities—and potentially interfere with Zoey's work.

She had arrived. With a flash of her press badge, she was let inside without issue, and Zoey immediately set herself to the task of scouting out the area. The place was filled mostly by wealthy donors, a few whom Zoey recognized, a few whom she didn't. That didn't matter much to her, however. They were not the story.

Marinda Ortiz was the first she spotted; she stood afar in a black cocktail dress, nursing a glass of wine and chatting up Grimsley Astor, the retired Unova Elite Four member. Satchel Thompson was next: He was speaking with Ciara Skelley, and she had a notebook in hand. Zoey narrowed her eyes but looked away. She couldn't let it distract her.

Junia Stevens was nowhere in sight, but that was to be expected. She usually didn't appear until the event started. Zoey's main concern, then, was Jennifer Dey… but she was nowhere to be seen, either. Zoey casually perused the crowd trying to spot her, but in vain. Perhaps she was backstage with Stevens, though that was _supposed_ to be Satchel's job.

With the eventual determination that Dey, as usual, simply wasn't around, Zoey resigned to seating herself on a stool at the event's open bar. The bartender came by and inquired if she wanted anything, but Zoey politely waved him off; she was still working.

"So… what are you moping about over here?"

Zoey sucked in a hissing breath and lolled her head over her shoulder. Ciara had occupied the seat beside her while she wasn't paying attention.

"What's it to you?" Zoey asked lightly.

"Just curious," Ciara said. "Although, I bet I can guess why."

"That so?"

"You're looking for Jennifer Dey," Ciara said. Zoey straightened up, and a wicked grin spread across Ciara's face. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Annoyed, Zoey ignored the question and instead asked, "What were you talking to Satchel Thompson for?"

"Same reason as you," Ciara said. "Thompson mentioned you had already interviewed him and Ortiz. If we can't get interviews with Junia Stevens, then we just have to interview the people around her. Dey included."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?" Zoey grumbled. She hated the thought that Ciara and _The Sinnoan Times_ were emerging as competition, and she just wanted Ciara to leave her alone.

"Not at all," Ciara said. "I'm suggesting we work together. We're looking for the same thing, and I have information you don't have, and you have information I don't."

"Oh yeah?" Zoey raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Like what?"

It was a challenge—one that, much to Zoey's surprise, Ciara rose to accept.

"I know how Dey got that scar," Ciara teased.

"Ooh, boy, groundbreaking," Zoey said dryly. "You're a reporter now, Skelley, not a gossip."

"Dismiss me all you want, but you know nothing about Dey or her past, and you've got to start somewhere," Ciara said. Zoey pressed her lips together. As much as she did not want to admit it, Ciara had a point.

"All right, I'll bite," Zoey said. "How did Dey get the scar?"

"Some kind of airship accident," Ciara answered. "I don't have any details, but maybe you'll make some use of that information." Zoey frowned. It wasn't specific, but it _was_ something. An airship accident… Maybe with some research and guesswork, Zoey could figure out what accident. Just as she began to ponder her options, Ciara interrupted her thoughts with, "Your turn."

Zoey hummed, thinking again. Ciara's lead, though vague, was new information, so it was only fair Zoey revealed one of the cards in her hand.

"Stevens, Thompson, and Ortiz all used to be a part of a group called GAG in college," Zoey said.

"GAG?" Ciara repeated.

"Yeah."

"What's it stand for?"

"Nothing," Zoey answered. "It's 'GAG' as in there's a 'gag' on STEM research. That was how Marinda explained it to me."

"Uh-huh…" Ciara mused doubtfully. Before she could say anything further, her cell phone chimed, and she reached into her purse to retrieve it. A quick glance at the screen was all it took for Ciara to utter a breathless, "Holy shit."

"What?" Zoey gave her a funny look, but without giving her a chance to answer, Zoey's own cell phone ringer went off—Homa was calling. Zoey was mystified and alarmed. She and Homa had _just_ spoken; there had to be something serious happening.

"Yes, Homa?" Zoey picked up.

" _I just got off the phone with Anthony Lugo,_ " Homa said. " _You need to get to Opelucid ASAP. There's a protest forming outside Abel's event._ "

"A protest? A protest for what?" Zoey asked.

" _Against Abel. Another woman came forward with pretty credible allegations that Abel took advantage of her when she was 16 and paid her shut-up money. The Hoenn Chronicle just published the story maybe twenty minutes ago,_ " Homa explained. " _I need you to cover the protest while Anthony covers Abel._ "

"What about Dey?"

" _On hold,_ " Homa said. " _This takes priority tonight._ "

Zoey sucked in her breath. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll find a way there."

Ciara had waited patiently as Zoey finished up her conversation, and as soon as she set her phone down, Ciara tilted her head and asked, "Need a ride? I've got a rental."

Zoey narrowed her eyes. "What do you want in exchange?" she asked.

"Nothing," Ciara said lightly. "Consider it an act of goodwill for the GAG lead."

Zoey was doubtful, but she had no choice. Time was ticking, and public transport would be slow and crowded—especially if people were pouring in for a protest.

An applause rose from the crowd; Junia had just emerged from backstage. Zoey looked that way and noticed Dey lurking nearby. The sunken scar on her face was prominent, even from a distance. Zoey raked her teeth over her bottom lip, frustrated, but met Ciara's expectant gaze again.

"Okay," Zoey said, resigned. "Let's go."

* * *

Zoey and Ciara spoke little during the twenty-minute car ride—with which Zoey was perfectly content because (a) she didn't want to talk to Ciara; (b) she had more important things to do than talk to Ciara, like find out as much as she could about the ongoing protest from a distance; and (c) silently agonize over the fact Ciara was looking to publish the same story as her, with the same sources, and now with the same information, since Zoey had exchanged the GAG bit for a vague lead on Dey and free transportation. At least, if both were at the protest, then neither were speaking to Dey, Zoey thought.

They made it downtown, and though they had yet to reach the event location, protesters with #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt signs and banners were already lining the streets. Ciara's driving had to slow to a crawl to accommodate for all the people crossing the street. Outside her window, Zoey could see a few officers on Zebristkas heading toward Abel's venue.

"Arceus, this is bigger than I thought," Ciara mused. "There probably hasn't been anything this big since those protests against Barry Pearl becoming a Sinnoh Frontier brain back in 2009."

Zoey ran her tongue over the front of her teeth, refusing to respond. She suspected Ciara was only trying to get a rise out of her with that remark.

"I wonder if we're going to see more of these now," Ciara went on.

"As long as Abel stays in the race, yeah," Zoey said.

"Sure, but I meant in general," Ciara said. "New democracies aren't very pretty."

Zoey didn't respond to this comment either, but she shifted slightly when she saw they were approaching a red light, where more protesters were crossing. "Let me off here," she said.

"The venue's another several blocks away," Ciara pointed out.

"I know," Zoey said flatly with no further elaboration. Ciara raised an eyebrow but shrugged.

"Suit yourself," she said. When the car rolled to a stop at the crosswalk, Zoey threw open the door, uttered a quick "thanks," and slammed the door shut again. As she walked away, she didn't let herself seethe for too long—there was work to be done. Zoey dialed Homa's cell, and she quickly answered.

" _You got there quick,_ " was Homa's immediate response when Zoey picked up.

"I got a ride with _The Sinnoan Times_." Zoey paused before adding, "More on that later."

" _What're you seeing_?"

"I'm not even at the venue yet, and there's a ton of protestors already around," Zoey answered.

" _How's your phone battery?_ "

"I'm at about 80 percent."

" _Good. Get your Chatot account ready, because you're using it tonight. I want you to live-Chat the protest._ "

"Okay."

" _Send out an initial Chat, and I'll make sure the official Hearthome Chronicle account shares it._ "

"Okay," Zoey repeated, now just growing anxious to get off the phone.

" _Stay safe out there._ "

"Thanks. I'll be fine," Zoey assured her. She hung up and opened up her Chatot: "I'm in Opelucid City covering the #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt protest outside Greg Abel's campaign event. Follow me at _zoey_williams_ for updates throughout the night."

As Homa promised, within minutes, she received a notification on her phone that _hearthomechronicle_ had shared her Chat. From there, new followers started to pour in by the dozens, and Zoey was forced to turn off her Chatot notifications to avoid an inundation of bells and whistles.

A protestor—a young woman in her late teens with a Minccino on her shoulder—walked by carrying a sign that read "Vote for Science, not Pedophilia." A cutout of Junia Steven's face was plastered on the right side of the poster with a green checkmark beside her face, while a cutout of Greg Abel's face on the left was crossed out in red. The sign caught Zoey's attention, so she called out to her.

"Excuse me!" Zoey waved to her, and the young woman turned. "I'm Zoey Williams from the _Hearthome Chronicle_. Could I get a comment from you?"

"Uh, sure," the woman said, lowering her sign.

Zoey did her due diligence throughout the evening, She sent out pictures of signs, accompanied by quotes from protesters, posted videos of some of the crowd's chants, and, once she finally made it outside the venue, even briefly streamed an impassioned speech from the of the protest's organizers. All the while, however, her mind was elsewhere—miles away, still in Icirrus City.

She caught a glimpse of Ciara speaking with a different protestor several yards in the distance. Zoey gritted her teeth and looked away as she finished her latest Chat.

It _bothered_ her that Ciara was researching and writing the same article as her. Part of it, Zoey knew, was because she utterly disliked Ciara and would dislike anything she did. Another less petty part of it, however, was the realization that if Ciara was writing this article, it was likely other publications were trying to do the same. So with every interview and every picture and every Chat that evening, the pressure of her emerging competition weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Zoey did try to reassure herself. Ciara was right; there were things she knew that no one else probably did, aside from GAG. Like what space archeology is. And that Jennifer Dey doesn't have a file in the G-Men's database.

"Hey." Zoey felt a hand touch her shoulder, and she breathed in sharply before spinning around to face a tall, dark-haired male. His round face was patterned with surprise, probably from her defensive reaction.

"Oh, Anthony," Zoey breathed. She had only met him in-person once or twice and knew him better by his byline than his face, but she still recognized him. "I thought Abel's event ended at 10. It's only—" She checked the time on her phone. "—9:17."

"Yeah, it ended early once some of Abel's protesters started getting into the venue. He's gone, probably a couple miles away from here by now," Anthony explained. "I was about to call Homa, but then I saw you. You might want to think about getting out of here. I heard over the police dispatch they're going to disperse the crowd soon. It might get ugly."

"Thanks for the concern," Zoey said, "but I'll stick it out. Good luck with your story tonight. I saw a cafe with wi-fi just a block away while I was moving up with protestors toward the venue."

"Thanks." Anthony nodded to her. "I'll look for it."

They parted ways. Within minutes, as Anthony had predicted, one of the Zebstrika-riding officers was moving into the crowd with a megaphone. Zoey opened her phone's camera, ready to record and Chat the inevitable resistance.

Dey was on her mind again. The Icirrus event would already be over by the time Zoey managed to get back. There would be no interview tonight. Or tomorrow, since there were no scheduled public events for Stevens on Sundays. In fact, there was no guarantee _when_ she would ever be able to hold an interview with Dey, since she was almost always absent, and neither Marinda nor Satchel were willing to help set up a contact.

It seemed Dey was emerging as the bigger story than Junia Stevens, Zoey cynically thought, and the whole purpose for interviewing Dey was _just_ so she could get a picture on who Stevens was.

Lost in her thoughts again, Zoey did not notice when the same Zebstrika-riding officer approached until he was in her face.

"Ma'am," he said, "you need to leave this area."

Zoey snapped back into reality.

"Sir, I'm with the _Hearthome Chronicle_ ," she said, pulling out her press badge. "I'm a journalist covering this event. I'm not a protester."

The officer squinted at her credentials under the light of the street lamp and then back at her.

"Ma'am, you need to go," he repeated. A pit started to form in Zoey's stomach, but she stood her ground.

"Sir, I'm a _journalist_ ," she repeated with more emphasis. "I have a right to be here to cover this event."

"Ma'am, I've asked twice now—" he said with warning.

"—I'm not leaving, sir," Zoey said firmly, though her heart was racing by then. She knew where this was heading. The officer's hard eyes studied Zoey a moment longer, and then he dismounted his Zebstrika.

"Very well," he said. "Ma'am, you're under arrest for refusal to disp—" Zoey closed her eyes tightly and sucked in her breath, blocking out the rest of his words as she turned around and willed herself to be placed in handcuffs.

* * *

There were more than 100 protesters arrested and taken in, Zoey would later learn. She did have a sense it was around that number, as she was just one person being held among multiple police vans at the scene. Her informal headcounts only served as a means to distract herself from dissolving into panic.

All of her personal items had been confiscated. It was to be expected, she knew, but without her cell phone, she couldn't call Homa to let her know she was in trouble. She would have to wait until her booking at the police station was complete, and given the amount of people arrested, it was going to be a long time before she had access to a phone. She was holding onto the hope that the sudden moratorium in her Chats would indicate something was wrong, but that assumed Homa was watching her Chatot account and not editing Anthony's story.

And without a cell phone, she couldn't call Candice either. A reporter's arrest would probably make the news—for multiple publications, not just the _Hearthome Chronicle_ —and Zoey did _not_ want Candice to find out her girlfriend had been arrested from anyone other than her.

The worst of the whole situation, though, wasn't that her items had been confiscated; it was that her Pokémon had been taken, too. Glameow was also being held by the police, and the separation was agonizing. She and Glameow had been together since she was a child and Glameow was a kitten; the reason she had chosen Glameow out of all her Pokémon to accompany her on the campaign trail was _because_ they had never separated since then, and to be forced apart now was gut-wrenching.

Finally, the police seemed to be done filling Zoey's paddywagon. A girl was shuffled into the back, wearing zip ties around her wrists rather than handcuffs—the police had presumably run out of the latter—and the door was closed behind her. The girl sat beside Zoey, who quickly recognized her as the young women with the pro-Stevens sign she had interviewed earlier.

The young woman apparently recognized Zoey, too, because she looked at Zoey and said, "Hey, aren't you that reporter from the _Hearthome Chronicle_?"

"That's me," Zoey confirmed. A large, gruff man sitting across the aisle suddenly spoke up.

"What the _fuck_?" he swore aloud, and Zoey winced in surprise. "You can't arrest a reporter!" He suddenly pressed his face up against the window separating them from the drivers. "Hey, assholes! You can't arrest a reporter! That's a violation of the right to a free press!"

"Yeah, well," another, younger man grumbled. "To arrest protesters is also a violation of the right to assemble, and yet, here we all are."

A cacophonous argument rose up, and Zoey groaned before closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall. It was going to be a long night.

Down at the station, she and the rest of the protesters were uncuffed—or cut loose of their zip ties—and shuffled inside to fill out some rudimentary paperwork: full name, address, birth date, the usual. And then, one by one as they finished their forms, they were shuffled into one of two gender-divided holding areas.

Zoey was, again, one of the first inside. She took up residence on a cold metal bench, figuring she ought to get comfortable—which was difficult, considering she was certain the bench was designed to be _un_ comfortable. And then she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

A new protester was ushered into the holding area every few minutes. The cell gradually became more packed, to the point where Zoey was eventually pushed off the bench. She decided it was easier to stand than be stuck together like a school of Wishiwashi on the bench anyway.

She waited some more.

Zoey occupied herself with some pointless arithmetic. All told, a total of 56 women were jammed into the holding area. Zoey wondered: How long would it take for their paperwork to be processed? She supposed it depended on how many people her arresting officer had taken in.

More waiting.

She was starting to feel hungry, and her feet were sore. She had been on them all evening downtown, and her shoes weren't exactly protest-ready—she had dressed for a semi-formal fundraiser, not an outdoor event.

"Zoey Williams?"

Zoey jerked her head up. The local Officer Jenny was standing at the front of the cell. Zoey pushed her way through the crowd to meet her.

"Yes?" she inquired once reaching her. "I'm Zoey Williams."

"Your paper's lawyer called," Jenny explained. "You're being released with no charges. We still need to process your items to return them, but we can have you wait out front."

An immense sense of relief washed over Zoey. Homa had come through even before she could reach out to her. Zoey didn't know how, but she was glad regardless.

"Thank you," Zoey said as Jenny unlocked the door and let her out.

Zoey called Homa first at a private phone booth near the front of the station. It was a struggle to remember her number without the contact list in her cell phone, but she managed to get it after a few initial misdials.

" _Hello?_ " Homa inquired when she picked up.

"Homa, it's Zoey," Zoey said, feeling a second deluge of relief at hearing a familiar voice.

" _Finally,_ " Homa breathed. " _Are you out yet?_ "

"Sort of," Zoey said. "My items haven't been processed yet. I'm still at the station waiting to get them."

" _Okay, good. Tell me what happened._ "

The command—gently, though firmly given—triggered an uncharacteristic, jumbled rush of words. Zoey spared no detail, starting from the moment she left Ciara's car, and the more she said, the faster she spoke. At several points, Homa told her to stop or slow down. Zoey realized Homa was probably taking notes, and she knew exactly why.

With a breath, Zoey finished her story at the moment Officer Jenny had let her out of the holding cell. A long pause followed, and it was then Zoey faintly heard the scribble of a pencil against paper, confirming her initial beliefs. Homa then sighed, and the exhaustion was evident in her voice.

" _Well, to start,_ " she said, " _You did everything you were supposed to. I'm proud that you stood your ground._ "

"Thank you," Zoey tamely replied.

" _The editorial board has called an emergency meeting and is writing an editorial on this tonight,_ " Homa carefully added.

"I figured as much."

" _Are you okay with that?_ "

"I'm fine," Zoey said. "You know, I'd rather it have not happened at all, but it did, and I think it's important the _Hearthome Chronicle_ write about it. Could I ask that nothing be run until I call my—" She stopped for a moment; she was about to say "girlfriend," but she didn't want to be too revealing. "—my family?"

" _How long do you need?_ "

"Ten minutes. Not even."

" _Okay, I understand,_ " Homa said. " _I'll give you some time._ "

"Homa?" Zoey inquired before she could hang up.

" _Hm?_ "

"Thank you." She didn't elaborate; she didn't have to explain. The gratitude that filled her voice was genuine, and for so many reasons.

" _No need to thank me,_ " Homa said. " _It's my responsibility to look after my staff. You should thank that reporter from The Sinnoan Times, though._ "

"That reporter?" Zoey repeated inquisitively.

"I can't remember her name now," Homa admitted. "She tipped us off about your arrest, though. She called from the scene. That's how I was able to get in contact with our legal team and get the charges dropped as quickly as we did."

"... Was her name Ciara Skelley?" Zoey asked incredulously.

" _Yeah, that was it_."

Zoey was stunned. She sank into her chair a little, processing this development.

" _Everything okay?"_ Homa asked.

"Uh, yeah," Zoey said, straightening up again. "I just remembered: There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

" _What?_ "

"Ciara Skelley's working on the same story as me," Zoey said. "I know for sure she's interviewed Ortiz and Thompson already. I think we need to run my story without Dey, or _The Sinnoan Times_ will. I'll keep working on Dey and Stevens, but now we're in a race. I can review the files I got from the G-Men tonight and add them to my draft, then make sure it's to you in the morning."

" _Arceus, Zoey, you just got out of jail, and you're thinking about this?_ "

"Hear me out," Zoey pressed.

" _I do hear you_ ," Homa said, exasperated, " _and you're right_."

"I—What?" Zoey hadn't expected that response.

" _We should run the story now,_ " Homa agreed. _"Don't write it tonight though. You've had a long enough night, and The Sinnoan Times isn't going to run the story before morning. Is that all?_ "

"Yeah," Zoey said. "Thanks."

" _Then I'll leave you to call your family. Keep me posted._ "

"I will."

After hanging up, Zoey rubbed tiredly at her eyes. She leaned out of the booth just to check the wall clock. It was nearly midnight in Unova. It would approaching… 3 or 4 a.m. in Sinnoh. She couldn't remember the exact time difference. She should've asked Homa.

Ah, well. It was too late now. Zoey laid her head against the wooden cubby to collect herself. No matter how late the hour, she knew Candice would pick up. She always did. And Zoey wanted to know what she was going to say.

She removed the phone from the hook again. Candice's number she knew by heart.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

Candice answered.

" _Hello?"_ Her voice was incredibly groggy.

"Hey, Candice," Zoey said gently.

" _Zoey?_ " Candice's tone audibly perked up. " _It's the middle of the night! Is everything okay?_ "

"Yeah, everything's fine now," Zoey answered. "But I needed to talk to you."

" _What's the matter?_ " Candice's voice was now brimming with concern. The sound needled guilt into Zoey's gut.

"I just want to preface this by, again, saying that everything's fine now," Zoey said, "but I did get arrested."

" _What?!"_ If Candice wasn't awake before, she certainly was now. " _What happened_?"

"In sum, I was covering a protest in Opelucid, and when the police ordered that the crowd disperse, I was mistakenly grouped in with the protesters," Zoey explained. She briefly paused before adding, "There are no charges being filed. One of the _Chronicle_ 's lawyers straightened it out. The Opelucid police force is probably going to have a PR headache in the morning because Homa and the rest of the board are together now writing an editorial."

" _Arceus_."

"Yeah." Zoey smiled faintly. "I thought I was through being a headline. Guess not."

" _Well, the important thing is you're safe_ ," Candice said. " _Where are you now?"_

"I'm still at the station. I'm waiting to get Glameow and my things back."

" _They took Glameow?!_ " Candice was aghast.

"They confiscate your Pokémon when you're arrested."

" _Ugh_ ," Candice growled. " _That makes me so mad_. _You did nothing wrong_!"

"I know," Zoey tiredly replied. "I'm not mad about it anymore. It's just been a long day."

" _Yeah… Well, thanks for calling to let me know._ " She paused, thinking. " _Wait… Weren't you supposed to be in Icirrus tonight?_ "

"I was. Homa called me down to Opelucid when the protest started," Zoey said.

" _Is your hotel in Icirrus? How are you getting back tonight?_ "

Zoey had yet to even consider this with everything that had happened that evening. She supposed she could check if any local public transport was still running after midnight, or perhaps she could call a cab. Homa would probably ensure she was reimbursed for her trouble. Still, exhaustion was setting in, and Zoey was sort of toying with the idea of getting an additional room somewhere in Opelucid and then heading back to Icirrus early tomorrow.

"I'll figure it out," Zoey eventually said.

" _Well, okay…_ " Candice hesitantly agreed. " _Will you call me again in the morning?_ "

"Of course."

" _Thanks. Love you. Take care of yourself._ "

"I love you too. Good night."

After the call ended, Zoey called Homa back to OK her on publishing the _Chronicle's_ editorial, then dragged herself back to the front desk to do, well, more waiting. At least she wasn't in a cell anymore, but she could hear the protestors faintly chanting through the walls. She slumped into a chair and, with time, started to drift in and out of consciousness. Each time she jolted back awake, she would check the digital clock sitting on the counter. Time seemed to be inching forward more slowly than ever before.

Just as Zoey began to nod off again, her name was called.

"Ms. Williams?"

Zoey went rigid, sitting way up. "Yes?' she responded. It was the guard manning the counter who had spoken to her. In his hands was a plastic, gray basket which held her bag and all her possessions—and most importantly, her Glameow.

Zoey let out a long breath before jumping to her feet to retrieve the bag. " _Thank you_ ," she said with immense sincerity. Reflecting back, she realized it was strange to thank the officer when the force had been responsible for placing her in that situation, but in that moment, she was so grateful just to have Glameow back that she didn't give it a second thought.

And she didn't wait a second more, either. As soon as she took back her bag, she reached inside and pulled out Glameow's Poké Ball, releasing her right in front of the desk. Upon her appearance, Glameow mewled and leapt into her trainer's arms.

"I'm so sorry, Glameow," Zoey said, stroking the back of her Pokémon's head. Glameow gently licked her cheek, accepting the apology.

She physically carried Glameow out, now starting to think more seriously about what she would do for the evening. Getting another room in Opelucid, while a little more costly, was looking like a pretty good option. But when Zoey stepped outside, her tentative plans all flew out the window. She gaped at first, but quickly closed her mouth again as her lips wriggled into a smile.

Cilan Griffith was outside the station, leaning against the side of his car, waiting for her. He waved, and Zoey quickly strode toward him to give him an embrace. She wasn't at all a huggy person, but she wanted a hug _right then_ , not only because she was so deeply appreciative and wanted to show it, but also because she just… needed the comfort. Cilan gladly wrapped a warm arm around her waist and pulled her in, without squishing Glameow between them.

"What are you doing here?" Zoey asked when she pulled back. Cilan smiled gently at her.

"Candice called," he said. "I heard you might need a place to stay tonight."

* * *

It took some time for Zoey's mind to catch up with her, and at some point on the ride to the former Opelucid Gym, it occurred to Zoey that maybe it would be a good idea to send out a Chat explaining she had been arrested but was safe now—especially considering the _Hearthome Chronicle's_ editorial board was writing an op-ed about the situation at that very moment.

With Glameow safely nestled in her lap, Zoey retrieved her cell phone, opened her Chatot app, and typed out a simple message: "I was arrested tonight at the Opelucid protest, but all is well now, and no charges have been filed. Details to come via _hearthomechronicle_ soon."

She clicked "Send" and set the phone aside, telling herself she wouldn't pick it up again for the rest of the evening.

"So there are no charges being filed?" Cilan inquired with conversational concern.

"Hm? Oh, no," Zoey said. "That's all been taken care of."

"That's good, at least," Cilan said. Zoey caught a glimpse of a gentle smile as they drove under a yellow streetlight. He directed his gaze forward, toward the road again, before adding, "You know, of all the people from our group who would be arrested, I thought you would have been the last."

"That so?" Zoey said with trifle of amusement. "Who's the first?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably Barry," Cilan answered.

Zoey knew, internally, he meant no malice by his determination. Still, it struck enough of her suspicion for her to ask, "What for?"

He shrugged, then said, "Disturbing the peace. Considering this is the same person who mixed an energy drink with coffee."

Zoey laughed. She wasn't sure why she felt any doubt at all.

"You remember that, huh?"

"How could I forget?" Cilan tiredly laughed, too.

They arrived at the former Opelucid City Gym. Zoey dragged herself out of the car, carrying Glameow with her. She followed Cilan inside, and they headed up the elevator to the living quarters together.

Zoey was surprised to see Iris awake and waiting for them. She let Glameow out of her arms this time as Iris came to embrace her. Zoey gratefully accepted her into her arms.

"I heard you've had a pretty crazy night," Iris said after pulling away.

"I've had crazier nights," Zoey said lightly, wearing a smile. " _We've_ had crazier nights," she added, gesturing between herself, Iris, and Cilan.

Iris let out a breathy laugh. "True," she conceded.

"You didn't have to stay up for me," Zoey went on.

Iris waved her hand dismissively. "There was no way I could've gone back to sleep after Candice called. Besides, Cicily is recovering from a cold, and she's fussy and keeping us up every night anyway." It was then that Zoey discerned the bags beneath her eyes and frazzled ends of her hair: the haggard appearance of a new parent. Cilan had the same look, but Zoey had initially attributed it to him waking up in the middle of the night to get her. The realization made her feel doubly grateful.

"Well—thank you regardless. I really appreciate it," Zoey said with as much sincerity as she could muster. "I'm sorry to hear Cicily's been sick. You'll have to officially introduce me to her before I leave."

"Of course," Cilan agreed. "But let's get you settled in for the night."

He showed her and Glameow to the guest room and with a few amicable parting words left her for the evening. As soon as he shut the door, Zoey sighed and collapsed onto the bed. She kicked off her shoes and pressed her hands to her eyes and laid there for just a few minutes. It had to be nearly 1 a.m. by then. She threw her arms on either side of her and lolled her head toward the glowing digital clock on the nightstand. Actually, it was past 1 a.m.

Zoey realized she didn't have any pajamas on her, so she ended up just stripping down to her undershirt and boyshorts. She carelessly tossed her slacks and blouse to the ground.

The moment she pulled the covers over herself, however, she found herself unable to remain still. Although every bone in her body was sore with exhaustion and her eyes stung with a heavy need for sleep, the adrenaline that still lingered in her veins rendered her unable to relax. She resisted the feeling at first; she tossed around in bed, wanting to expend the restiveness so she could find, well, rest.

Glameow, meanwhile, had curled up on the corner of the bed and immediately gone to sleep. Zoey looked at her enviously but eventually gave up. Although she had told herself she wouldn't pick her phone up again, she found herself reaching for it on her nightstand. She turned it on, and the screen cast an ethereal blue glow across her face.

She flipped aimlessly through her apps for a short while, unsure what she wanted to do, other than she wanted to keep herself occupied. She at least knew she didn't want to be on Chatot; she could imagine her account was exploding with activity given her latest Tweet, and reading other users' reactions would only wind her up more and make it impossible to sleep.

Junia Stevens crossed her mind again. Homa had told Zoey not to work on the profile that evening. But, then again, Zoey had also told herself she wouldn't be on her phone again. She opened up her email account and found the documents Charles Mook had sent her. The first attachment she opened was the one of greatest interest.

Full Name: Junia E. Stevens — DOB: 1 March 1977 — Hometown: Floaroma Town

Registered Pokémon  
Bronzong  
Dustox (M)  
Girafarig (F)  
Golbat (F)  
Golduck (M)  
Rapidash (F)  
Skuntank (F)  
Weavile (M)

History  
Lily of the Valley Conference (1989)

Awards/Honors  
N/A

The document ended there. Zoey pressed her lips together thoughtfully. Finally, she knew Junia Stevens's hometown: Floaroma Town. She also had no idea Junia Stevens had participated in the Sinnoh League—an interesting but likely unimportant fact. Zoey vaguely wondered if this was a typical file, or if there was usually more information available, so she opened another file: her own.

Full Name: Zoey Williams — DOB: 14 May 1985 — Hometown: Snowpoint City

Registered Pokémon  
Gallade (M)  
Gastrodon (F)  
Glameow (F)  
Leafeon (M)  
Lumineon (F)  
Mismagius (F)  
Raichu (M)

History  
Sinnoh Grand Festival (2000)  
Sinnoh Grand Festival (2001)  
Sinnoh Grand Festival (2003)  
Hoenn Grand Festival (2004)  
Kanto Grand Festival (2006)  
Johto Grand Festival (2007)

Awards/Honors  
Sinnoh Top Coordinator (2001)  
Wallace Cup Winner (2005)  
Johto Top Coordinator (2007)

Zoey was impressed: The history _was_ comprehensive and covered all major events she had participated in. Looking at her file and Junia's file side by side, she could draw a few conclusions: (1) She had definitely had a more active career as a trainer than Junia Stevens. But it certainly wasn't unheard of for trainers to only participate in one league or grand festival and then move on to other things; (2) Junia Stevens's file, therefore, wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't glaringly incomplete or lacking information compared to a "normal" file. Zoey wasn't sure what she expected to find in all this, but given the oddly protective behavior of all of Junia's high-ranking campaign staffers, she half-expected there be something weird in her history that they didn't want others to know.

Zoey began to look through the other requested files—Satchel's and Marinda's, namely—but slowly began to feel her eyes growing more and more heavy. Finally, she set her phone on the nightstand again, prepared to go to sleep. Then the distant cries of an infant tore through the air. Zoey let out a long sigh and turned in her bed, mentally trying to block out the noise.

It was no use. Within minutes, Zoey was out of bed again and heading toward the living room. If she was going to be awake anyway, she might as well keep her equally sleep-deprived hosts company.

She found Iris in the living room, attempting to soothe the fussy child. Iris immediately sensed Zoey's arrival, and she jerked her head up the moment after she entered the room.

"Oh—I'm sorry," Iris said. "Did she wake you up?"

"Oh no," Zoey hastily replied. "I was up anyway, and I thought to check on you."

Iris smiled tiredly. "Well, thanks," she said. "Cilan was gonna be up with me too, but he has class in the morning, so I told him to stay in bed."

"At least one of you should get some sleep anyway," Zoey offered.

"Yeah…" Iris looked down, cradling Cicily in her arms. "It's normally not this tough. She's usually really quiet and easy to take care of, for a baby at least. Cilan and I are lucky."

"You deserve some luck after everything you've been through."

Iris cracked another smile. She silently invited Zoey to sit down with a gesture of her hand. Zoey took her up in the offer, situating herself in an armchair across from the new mother.

"So how's everything been going for you?" Iris asked. "I mean, aside from getting arrested."

Zoey let out a hoarse laugh then sighed.

"It's frustrating work," she said. "I much prefer talking to cute rookie coordinators than dealing with politicians."

"I can only imagine," Iris laughed too.

A thought then occurred to Zoey, and she asked, "Were you upset when Adalet resigned to run? I know you spent a really long time trying to find someone to head the Unova G-Men."

"Oh—no." Iris shook her head. "I encouraged him to run."

Zoey's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah," Iris answered. "He's got the support of most of the Champions actually. Even Paul's come around, I think. The one exception might be Leaf. She's still on the fence about him. She can hold a grudge for an awfully long time if she wants, and the pregnancy hormones probably aren't helping."

Zoey was intrigued by this information—all things she never would have heard talking to any other Champion, either for lack of personal relevance (she couldn't even think of holding an in-depth conversation about politics with Ash), pursuit of fairness (Max, she imagined, would take his role of impartiality very seriously), fear of public reprisal (Leaf knew Zoey was a journalist with publishing power), or because they were plain antisocial (Paul). Iris was different. She maintained no pretenses. It was because of that Zoey cautiously probed further.

"If I may ask, why Adalet?" she said.

"Because he _gets_ it," Iris said. "He knows why we're doing this. He's been on the inside."

"I see…" Zoey mused, glancing down.

"What about you? Where do you stand on all of this?" Zoey's eyes rose toward Iris again in surprise. With a smile, Iris apologetically added, "Oh, is that too personal? I won't tell anyone."

Zoey cracked a smile. "No, it's not that," she said. "It's just that people usually ask what I think about Junia Stevens. I haven't really thought about how I'm going to vote." It surprised her to say it: It hadn't occurred to her until that very moment, but even in all her political reporting, she had given little consideration on how she would cast her own ballot come the election.

"Well, what _do_ you think of Junia Stevens?" Iris asked. "I bet you know her better than most, following her so closely."

"You'd be surprised," Zoey said wearily. "She's a bit of an enigma." Zoey suddenly found herself wanting to change the subject, for she realized she was easing into dangerous territory. Iris was far less uptight than Leaf, sure, but it probably wasn't a good idea for her to know about the questions Zoey had on Junia Stevens and her adviser's missing file—not yet at least. So, out of an abundance of caution, Zoey inclined her head toward Iris and remarked, "It looks like Cicily's calmed down again."

Iris blinked and glanced down at the child in her arms. Cicily was asleep—or at least very close to it.

"Yeah…" The relief was evident in Iris's voice. She looked up at Zoey again. "Do you want to see her?"

Zoey grinned. "Of course," she answered, switching from the armchair to the sofa on which Iris sat. She looked carefully over Iris's shoulder at the infant, breathing just a little slower now.

"Wow," Zoey remarked in just above a whisper. "She's a perfect mix of you and Cilan."

Iris briefly flicked a genuine smile at Zoey then looked down at her daughter again. "Cress says the same thing," she said. "Not Chili, though. He thinks she looks more like Cilan."

"Well, yeah, of _course_ you can see Cilan in her," Zoey said. "But I see you in her, too."

With Cicily asleep, the conversation drifted off into softer tones that eventually led to both women retiring to bed. Zoey collapsed into her sheets, accidentally disturbing Glameow as she did. She uttered a quick apology to the Pokémon, who harrumphed in response but quickly went back to sleep—and her trainer soon followed suit.

* * *

Zoey woke to at least a dozen messages on her phone—from Dawn, from Ash, from Drew, from Trip, from even Paul of all people, just to name a few. It seemed everyone she had ever known was blowing up her phone, and in her exhausted daze, she was initially confused why. Then she remembered: Oh, yeah. She had been arrested last night. The _Hearthome Chronicle_ must have published the editorial, and word had spread.

While still laying in bed, she idly responded to a few of the messages she received: She reassured May she was fine, thanked Misty for thinking about her—and it soon occurred to her that maybe she ought to read the editorial.

She stopped avoiding the inevitable and opened her Chatot. Sure enough, she had more than a hundred notifications on her account. The very first Chat she saw on her feed was one from Drew, writing, "The arrest of reporter _zoey_williams_ at the #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt protest last night is unacceptable—we need a free press now more than ever with an emerging democracy."

Zoey internally groaned. She flicked her finger to scroll further down the feed. Ritchie had Chatted a link to the very thing she sought to read: "Editorial: #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt protests first test of our new democracy—and it failed with our reporter's arrest last night."

Zoey felt a pit form in the bottom of her stomach. It was the same sort of anxiety that she felt right before her arrest—the sense that she was about to be pulled into a mess from which she wouldn't be able to escape unscathed.

She changed her mind. She made the conscious decision not to read it.

Zoey ended up catching a cab to Icirrus City. Cilan was insistent he drive her back after breakfast, saying Burgundy would take over his class, but Zoey was equally insistent he not inconvenience himself when he had already done so much for her. Zoey's persistence won out in the end.

Checkout was only an hour away when Zoey finally made it to her hotel room. Despite the chaos of the previous evening, she had to keep going. There was one more Unovan event in Mistralton City, and then it would be off to Johto and Kanto. She changed into a fresh set of clothes—there was no time for a shower, so it would just have to wait until she arrived in Mistralton—and quickly packed up her things before heading down to the lobby for check-out.

A small queue had formed at the front desk, and Zoey was stunned when she noticed a familiar face at the end of it.

"Ciara?"

Ciara turned toward her with a raised eyebrow then put on her usual haughty smile.

"Well, good morning, Zoey," she said.

"I didn't realize you were staying here, too."

"Mhm," Ciara hummed. "So, make any of use of my lead on Dey?"

Zoey was initially confused what she meant—Jennifer Dey was the last thing on her mind at the moment—when she suddenly realized Ciara was referring to the tip on where Dey acquired her scar.

"Uh… no," Zoey replied.

Ciara hummed again. "Well, that's disappointing," she said. It was her turn in line. She turned away from Zoey, who stood baffled. She wasn't going to bring up last night? Was Homa mistaken?

Ciara slid her keys across the desk toward the clerk, then faced Zoey again. "I'll keep working on your GAG lead while you focus on Dey's past, okay?"

Zoey wasn't sure when this arrangement was ever made, but she was still so struck that she said nothing as Ciara started to walk away. Zoey turned her head to watch her go and found her voice again.

"Ciara!" she called out to her. Ciara turned on her heel, looking at Zoey expectantly. "I…" Zoey started, sounding unsure. "Thank you for calling my editor."

Ciara pressed her lips together but managed a smile—a genuine one.

"I'll see you in Mistralton," she said.


	7. VIOLET CITY, JOHTO

**A privatized city upon a hill: Connor  
Blanc's vision for education  
**Keion Thomas, Elections  
March 2, 2011

Education was a top priority in the Nimbasa  
estate where Connor Blanc grew up.

Perfect attendance at Vero Albinus  
Elementary School. A $10,000 annual  
tuition. A top of the line tutor. Mandated  
weekend study periods. No extra  
curriculars. No sports. No Pokémon journey.

Blanc says he wouldn't have had it any  
other way.

"I know a lot of people would hear about my  
upbringing and think, 'My, that's terrible!'" he  
said. "When I was 10, I certainly thought it  
was, too. But my parents' heavy emphasis  
on education brought me the success I  
enjoy today."

After finishing up his early education at  
Albinus, Blanc enrolled in classes at the  
Pokémon Connoisseur Association. He  
achieved his S-Class certification—the  
highest attainable rank for Pokémon  
Connoisseurs—at 25. At 34, he was  
inducted as a board member for the PCA.

Now 41, Blanc is undertaking the "greatest  
learning experience of his life," he  
says—running for president. The president  
of a new democracy, no less.

Education is at the core of Blanc's  
campaign. If elected, Blanc will seek to  
improve the education system in Napaj. In  
particular, he wants to improve voucher  
programs that allow students of lower  
socioeconomic backgrounds to enroll in  
prestigious private schools, free of tuition.

"I recognize I come from a privileged family,  
and many young people in public schools  
do not get the same caliber of education  
that I did," Blanc says.

Programs like the Digital Institute of  
Learning (DIL)—the free online education  
school for traveling trainers—simply do not  
cut it, Blanc adds.

"DIL does not adequately serve the needs  
of our students," Blanc argues. "That's why I  
want to invest more money into vouchers, to  
create competition between educational  
institutions that will force public schools to  
work harder to compare with private ones."

See **BLANC** , Page A6

* * *

Zoey knew looking into Ciara's tip would be a doozy; it was incredibly vague as is, and she had so little information on Dey that it was impossible to do a cross search without making assumptions and doing some guesswork. Still, she wasn't fully prepared for how awful the process would be.

How many "airship accidents" could there possibly be? A lot, if you didn't know how Ciara defined an airship and were too proud to ask, and if you had no idea where said airship accident took place. She could at least reasonably guess it was Sinnoh since, according to Marinda, most of Junia Stevens' staff was Sinnoan.

Over the past several weeks, Zoey had formed something of a routine revolving around that single tip. When she wasn't attending Stevens' events and doing her daily reporting, she was researching airships and, more specifically, airship accidents. The process was frustrating. Even if she narrowed her search down to airship accidents that were (a) in Sinnoh (b) with survivors (c) within the past 30 years, there were far too many to wade through—and who knew how many accidents hadn't even been reported?

Zoey would usually give up around midnight, when her eyes began to droop and Glameow meowed at her to go to sleep. She'd toss in bed another thirty minutes, reasoning there was nothing she could do with so little information. But inevitably, she would return to her work several days later with a refreshed mind and some new ideas.

It struck her when she caught a glimpse of Jennifer Dey in the middle of a campaign event, a few weeks later, that perhaps she could further narrow her search based on the injury Dey had acquired. Her scar wasn't the result of a burn; it was atrophic. It was a depression in her skin, likely the result of blunt force trauma given Ciara's specification that the scar came from an "airship accident."

When she arrived back at her hotel and eliminated the element of fire from her search, her list actually became manageable: an even dozen. Two of them she recognized.

The first was from 1998, when she was just a rookie coordinator. A blimp promoting a new PokéMart campaign crashed in a clearing a few miles outside the Johto Grand Festival. She wasn't there—she was still traveling Sinnoh—but she remembered seeing it everywhere in the news. There were only two passengers: the captain and an engineer, the former of which died. The surviving engineer was now a 40-something year old married man though, so Dey couldn't have been involved.

The second was three years later in 2001, when a Team Galactic airship crashed into Lake Valor. Again, there was only one survivor, and again, it was a male. The young man was a grunt for the organization and was arrested after being transported to a hospital. The rest of the crew drowned; the airship and a majority of the bodies were recovered in the following week. Dey didn't fit the mold there either.

The rest were small-time accidents that received little news coverage—definitely more likely. Zoey vetted the rest of the accidents for any female survivors and found five. The most recent was from an accident in 2010, survived only by an elderly woman named Janice Hepworth. Not Jennifer Dey. Another was from an accident in 2005—a married couple, Elizabeth and Trevor Cloud, survived. Also not Jennifer Dey.

The last she checked, though—an accident from 1981—featured an unnamed 7-year-old survivor, a girl. Thirty years later in 2011, the girl would be 37 years old. That was just about how old Jennifer Dey was from Zoey's estimates. That had to be it. Dey had to be her.

" _You're really sure?_ " Homa asked doubtfully.

"I'm almost positive," Zoey insisted. "Homa, over the past several weeks, I've become an expert on Sinnoan airship accidents. There's nothing else that fits the bill."

" _Why are you so sure it happened in Sinnoh?_ " Homa continued.

"Well… I'm not," Zoey admitted.

" _And how certain are you that Ciara's information is accurate?_ " Homa pressed.

"I—"

" _And even if it is true, so what?_ " Homa was ruthless. " _Okay, so let's assume all your assumptions are correct, and you've accurately identified an airship accident that Jennifer Dey was involved in as a child. So what?_ "

Zoey was rendered speechless. What could she say? What could she do as she watched weeks of research on her personal time circle the drain? It was all pointless. So what? When Ciara first presented her with the tip, Zoey had criticized it as being mere gossip—but she pursued it anyway, and nothing of value turned up. Maybe the story could make an interesting featurette buried in the back pages, but it seemed inane to bring that up now.

Homa sat through Zoey's silence for a while, perhaps to go be her some space to think. Then, she cleared her throat.

" _Are you prepared for tonight's debate?_ " she asked, offering a change of subject.

"Yeah," Zoey sighed with dejection. Tonight was the first televised debate between the five remaining candidates: Connor Blanc, Mitchell Sinternik, Tom Waylend, Erol Adalet, and, of course, Junia Stevens. Last week, Greg Abel finally dropped out despite himself when his polling hit an irrecoverable low and he seemed to be facing several lawsuits. Zoey would be sitting with the other _Hearthome Chronicle_ reporters doing live fact-checking via Chatot while Anthony Lugo, recently relieved of his beat on Abel, would be working on a transcription that would go up immediately after the debate finished.

" _Good_ ," Homa said. " _Keep working hard._ "

The conversation ended with a click. Zoey let her phone slide out of her hands and onto the bed beside Glameow. The feline looked curiously at her trainer, who turned her attention to the open laptop sitting on the hotel desk. Her makeshift workspace was a mess—papers scattered everywhere, notes written on napkins, highlighters with missing caps drying out in the open—and Zoey sighed again before heading over and giving a lackluster attempt at organizing it all.

She shut the lid on her laptop. Back to square one.

* * *

Zoey arrived at Dervish University—the location of the televised debate—a little later than she would have liked, but prepared nonetheless.

After she was screened and let inside, she squeezed her way through the crowd and found the press area. Her eyes scanned the gaggle of journalists seated with laptops, cell phones, and notepads, looking for her own crowd. Her eyes briefly connected with those of Ciara Skelley, and Zoey promptly looked away. She wasn't at all in the mood for dealing with Ciara's antics, which would undoubtedly involve Ciara prodding her about the tips they'd exchanged.

"Zoey!"

Zoey turned and saw Aiyalah Rose-Westwood—the _Hearthome_ reporter covering Adalet—waving her down. Zoey managed a smile and made her way over to her, finding she'd reserved an open seat between her and Marie Guadarrama, the reporter covering Waylend.

"Ah, it's the woman of the hour!" Jeremy Bunt, Sinternik's reporter, greeted with a grin and a wave from down the line.

"'Woman of the hour,' huh?" Zoey repeated, raising an eyebrow. Of all the _Hearthome_ reporters now on the campaign trail, she was probably most familiar with Jeremy; he was formerly a contests reporter, like her. The rest were pulled from an assortment of beats under Homa, from League coverage (Anthony) to Pokéstyle (Aiyalah).

"Sure," Jeremy went on. "You're a celebrity among the staff, getting yourself arrested while covering a protest."

Zoey scoffed. "That was weeks ago. Old news. Hardly 'of the hour.'"

"It's the first I've seen of you since the last pitch meeting we sat in with Homa back in—what?—October? Feels relevant," Jeremy said, shrugging.

"Well, _I've_ already put it behind me," Zoey laughed dryly. "Not exactly the greatest night of my life."

"I _told_ you to leave," Anthony spoke up from behind his laptop.

"Ignore him. You did the right thing," Keion Thomas said, clearing his throat and reaching over Marie to offer Zoey a hand. "I don't believe we've ever met in person. Keion Thomas—I cover Blanc."

"I recognize your byline," Zoey said, shaking his hand. "Interesting man, Connor Blanc."

"He's all right—it's an easy assignment, at least. I don't suspect I'll be doing it for much longer, since he's sliding in the polls—privatizing public ed isn't exactly a popular sentiment among anyone other than the elitist pricks and idiots. Plus, your Junia Stevens is picking up all of Abel's lost support," Keion said.

"A wonder why that is," Zoey said tiredly.

"Ah, right. Homa tells me covering Stevens gives both of you a lot of trouble. That's why you had to profile her campaign people rather than her—great work, regardless," Keion went on.

Zoey let out a breathy laugh. "Thanks. Homa's mentioned that, huh?"

"You'd think for a candidate picking up as much support as her, she'd want to consider actually sitting down for an interview," Aiyalah chimed in.

"You'd think," Zoey said, shrugging. She appreciated the commiseration of her colleagues, but at that point, it felt like a rehash of one-sided venting sessions she'd held with Homa. Covering Junia Stevens was frustrating, yes. And she didn't feel like thinking on it because she was still sore over her research into Jennifer Dey's past turning up nothing substantive.

Zoey supposed she would just have to accept that Junia Stevens and her campaign members were weird simply because they weren't professional politicians like Sinternik or Waylend.

After a few more minutes of light chit-chat and other preparations—Zoey had her Chatot account open and was composing a Chat about following her for details on Stevens' participation—the room darkened, and the stage lit up. The debate was about to begin.

" _Good evening from Dervish University in Violet City, Johto. I'm Brian Shriver of Pokémon News Network, and I welcome you all to the first presidential debate. The participants tonight are Mitchell Sinternik, Erol Adalet, Tom Waylend, Connor Blanc, and Junia Stevens._ _This debate is sponsored by the Napjian Election Commission._

" _The commission drafted tonight's format, and the rules have been agreed to by the campaigns._ _The two-hour debate is divided into six segments, each 20 minutes long. At the start of each segment, I will ask the same lead-off question to each candidate, and they will each have up to two minutes to respond. From that point until the end of the segment, the candidates will have an open discussion.  
_

" _The audience in the room has agreed to remain silent so that viewers at home can focus on what the candidates are saying. The audience may applaud now, however, as we welcome the candidates to the stage._ "

Zoey and her colleagues offered a polite applause each time Shriver, seated facing the stage, introduced a new candidate. It was the first time all five had been together in one place, and there was a restrained tension in the air. It was all so subtle under the guise of professional amiability, but there was one moment—one strange moment—that exposed the strain.

Each a time a new candidate paraded onto the stage, they would shake the hand of their opponents. Junia Stevens was the last to enter, and for each opponent she greeted, she maintained an air of cordiality. Until the very last. When she met Adalet, her eyes narrowed, and his expression hardened, even as they shook hands. Zoey straightened up, but the moment was fleeting, and following it, both candidates were standing at ease side by side.

Zoey tried to catch Aiyalah's gaze to confirm if she had seen something, too, and there was something off—but Aiyalah seemed unfazed. Zoey slowly sank back into her chair. Had she imagined the entire encounter?

The candidates took their places at the podiums.

" _Let's get straight to it,_ " Shriver said after everyone had settled. " _This historical election will result in the country's first democratic president. The role has been left largely undefined by our Champions, and with no precedent, it is one of you who will give meaning to your position. What role do you expect to play in the service of Napaj? Mr. Adalet, let's begin with you._ "

" _Thank you, Mr. Shriver,_ " Adalet said. " _I believe that it is the responsibility of whomever is elected, regardless of whether it is myself or another person on this stage, to represent and advocate for the interests of the people and not the League. It is not a position that should held alone. Whatever policy decisions the president makes, they should be done under the counsel of a body of advisers selected from all stakeholders across Napaj. This includes business, education, health care, security, and other specializations—including those specializations specific to Pokémon. I believe seeking out and considering the expertise of others will make for a stronger leader, and therefore, a stronger nation._ "

" _That's time. Thank you, Mr. Adalet._ "

While writing a Chat on her phone, Aiyalah let out a short breath and muttered, "Good answer." Zoey briefly flicked her gaze toward her than back toward the stage. It _was_ a good answer. It must be nice, covering a candidate who actually had answers, Zoey wistfully thought.

Zoey mentally stumbled at the internal compliment she had paid to _Adalet_ , of all people, and the ghost of a laugh passed through her lips. Was Junia Stevens really so bad that even Erol Adalet was starting to look appealing?

" _Ms. Stevens, we'll have you answer next: What role do you expect to play in the service of Napaj?_ "

" _I mean to bring change, Mr. Shriver,_ " Junia said. " _I view this election, as many do, as an opportunity for a new beginning—one the nation is in desperate need of. There is much wrong with our world, and I believe the president should work to give the nation a fresh start, erasing the wrongs of our nation._ "

"A vague answer—the Junia Stevens' special," Maria wryly remarked as she leaned toward Zoey.

Zoey's lips quirked into a smile, and she nodded in agreement. It was good to hear, at least, that others were also put off by Junia Stevens' lack of clarity. Zoey began to type a Chat message to send, but as she thought more on Maria's comment, the more it didn't sit well with her.

Sure, Junia Stevens wasn't a career politician, and maybe that accounted for some of her peculiarities as a candidate—but Blanc and Adalet weren't politicians either, and while she wasn't particularly fond of either, at least they managed to strike her as normal. The longer she covered Junia Stevens and her campaign, the more seemed anything _but_ normal.

Zoey pressed send on her message: "On question about potential role in nation, Stevens discusses need to erase "wrongs of nation," offers no clarifying details." It was a harsher turn in tone for her typical Chats, but Zoey didn't care. Something was off, and it was time to play hardball.

* * *

"So any bets on how many days it'll be before Blanc drops out?" Anthony asked, grinning as he shut his laptop, having just submitted his transcript to Homa. The lights were back on; the debate hall was nearly cleared of everyone, except for the journalists still working on their stories. "I'm giving less than ten."

"Are you kidding me?" Aiyalah scoffed. "He'll stick around 'till the bitter end, even if he stays in dead last. He's too proud."

"That's exactly why he _will_ drop out," Jeremy said. "He got decimated tonight by the other candidates. Sinternik took him down to size over his voucher bullshit. He's super embarrassed right now, and he's gonna try to save face dropping out before his poll numbers really plummet. Right, Keion?"

Keion pulled his headphones out of his ears. "Don't talk to me about bets unless you wanna actually put up some cash."

Jeremy laughed. "Well, fine. I'll put 20 on him dropping out within the next ten days."

"I'll back that up with another 20," Anthony jumped in.

"Well, you two will be sorry when you're out those 20 bucks—I'll place my bet on after ten, or not at all," Aiyalah said, reaching into her wallet and pulling out a physical bill.

"I'll join you there," Maria said, following suit.

" _Now_ it's interesting." Keion straightened up. "Well, as the authority on Connor Blanc, I'm going to bet I'll be back home covering gym battles within the next ten days." A unanimous "ooh" sounded among the group.

"C'mon, Zoey, you're with us, aren't you?" Aiyalah pleaded.

Zoey raised an eyebrow but managed a smile. She hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "Well…" she drawled. "I _do_ think Blanc will drop out… but I don't think it'll be within ten days. I'll bet after ten or never."

Keion clutched his chest. "You _wound_ me, Williams," he said, feigning distress. "You compliment my reporting, then turn around and spit on my expertise?"

"Hey, if you win, you can take the extra cash and buy yourself a nice drink on the flight home," Zoey said lightly.

"Fair enough." Keion extended his hand, and they shook on it.

Their group started to disperse shortly thereafter. Zoey, however, lingered behind a little longer—for no reason, really, other than she wasn't in a rush and didn't want to fight traffic. She was occupying herself with reviewing the Chats she had sent throughout the evening. As it turned out, she hadn't needed to fact-check a single thing Junia had said because she hadn't, well, stated any facts. Just her usual empty rhetoric.

That gave Zoey pause. Huh. That would make for a good Chat to conclude the evening. She began to compose a new message: _My job tonight was to fact-check Junia Stevens throughout the debate, and she made it very easy—not because everything she stated was accurate, but rather because she didn't state anything_.

She pressed send. Homa was going to ream her for this later, probably. Maybe if she was lucky, Homa would be so mad she'd send her home and replace her with Anthony or Keion, whenever Connor Blanc dropped out.

Zoey stood up, gathered her things, and started to head toward the exit. As she left the auditorium and into the hallway, however, she had a surprise encounter. To her left, a little way off, she saw Aiyalah and Adalet speaking alone. A notebook was in her hand, and it was obvious she was in the middle of a short impromptu interview. Initially, Zoey felt a pang of jealousy—but then she saw an opportunity, and her professional envy dissolved. She hung back and waited for Aiyalah to finish up.

Closing her notebook, Aiyalah smiled and thanked him before leaving the hall—and that was when Zoey sprung into action. Adalet had barely turned away when she called his name out.

"Mr. Adalet!"

He turned, brows raised.

"I recognize you," was all he said.

"Yes, uh," Zoey began hesitantly. "We've met before." She wasn't sure how to delicately remind him _how_ they had met. Should she bring up how he'd been their bus driver in the "crash" that "killed" her nearly a decade earlier? Or talk about the time he apprehended her and her friends in Opelucid City? Or maybe she needed to go with the safer route when they had worked together two years earlier in a sting operation involving Team Plasma.

"Yes, I know your group well," Adalet replied, and Zoey felt an odd sense of relief. Okay, so he knew who she was. Then she internally winced. _Wait_. Maybe it wasn't a good thing that he knew her and her "group" well.

Adalet's eyes, meanwhile, flicked down to her press badge. "You're a journalist now?"

"Yeah, I—" Zoey fumbled for new notebook. "I had a question for you."

"On the record?"

Zoey blinked and looked down at her notebook. "Uh, no," she decided, hastily putting the notebook away again.

"Okay…" Adalet hummed suspiciously. "Well, what is it?"

"Do you… know Junia Stevens?" Zoey asked carefully.

"Pardon?"

"Do you know Junia Stevens?" Zoey repeated more firmly.

Adalet looked at her strangely. "In what context? Where is this coming from?" he asked.

"There—" A heat climbed up Zoey's neck with the fear that she _had_ imagined the whole thing. Aiyalah hadn't reacted at all, and judging by her Chatot feed, neither had anyone else watching the debate. Zoey pushed these doubts aside, though, and finished, "There was a moment of tension between you and Stevens before the debate began, when you greeted each other on stage—and to my knowledge, you've never met on the political stage before tonight, so why the animosity?"

"We are opponents," Adalet said a little dryly.

"But you didn't seem to share that animus with the other candidates," Zoey pressed.

Adalet breathed out through his nostrils. "Ms. Williams," he began bluntly, "I am no longer associated with the G-Men, and I will not comment on an ongoing investigation if that's what you want."

"Wha—" Before Zoey could finish, Adalet turned on his heel and left, but it didn't matter much because she had suddenly been rendered breathless.

* * *

" _You're fucking kidding me._ " Homa so rarely swore, but under the present circumstances, Zoey didn't bat an eye. " _That's what he said?!_ "

"Word for word," Zoey promised. She was pacing around her hotel room hurriedly in an indiscriminate state of undress while Glameow watched her from the desk with bug-eyed tension. "I've played it over at least a hundred times in my head now, and I can't read his words any other way—he must have thought I was onto some kind of closed-doors investigation, and that's why he shut me down like that."

" _Well, shit—forget Jennifer Dey, this is what you need to check out,_ " Homa breathed.

"So I'm not crazy?" Zoey questioned. "I'm not crazy for thinking there's something there? Why else would he have said it? Why else would he have invoked the G-Men if he didn't know about some kind of investigation involving her?"

" _No, you're not crazy,_ " Homa assured her, " _but let's slow down and take a breath. I will agree that his response definitely justifies further investigation, but we have to recognize that there could be other reasons why he said it. Adalet resigned before Junia Stevens even began her campaign, and he might've just wanted you off his back. You told me yourself there's a history there._ "

"I'm sure Adalet still _knows_ people in the G-Men though who might've told him. Besides, if Junia Stevens did something worth the G-Men's attention, it could have happened _before_ she was a candidate, when Adalet was still involved. There's that weird time gap between her college graduation and employment with the museum so maybe—" Zoey stopped and pressed a hand to her head. "—and even if Adalet just wanted to shoo me away, it was such an outlandish thing to bring up _right then_ —"

" _I hear you, Zoey,_ " Homa cut in. " _I'm just saying we both need to slow down. We really don't know anything more than we did five hours ago. And if there is an ongoing criminal investigation, you especially need to tread carefully._ "

Zoey heard the note of warning in her voice and felt a sudden pang of apprehension. She took in a deep breath. "Right. Okay. So, maybe I should get Aiyalah's thoughts on Adalet's response? She'd know him better than me by now."

" _No, I don't want Aiyalah knowing about this,_ " Homa said. " _I don't want anyone else knowing about this. You can't breathe even a hint of suggestion that there might be an investigation and you know about it—not to any other staffer, not to anyone in Stevens' campaign. Not until you know more._ "

It fully dawned on Zoey how serious Homa was being then—as well as how serious the situation potentially was.

"... What should I do then?" she asked quietly.

" _Maybe you need to work your connections a little and talk to someone in the G-Men,_ " Homa suggested. " _See if you can get someone, anyone, to confirm there's an investigation, even if it's off the record._ "

"There's no way Leaf would say anything. _She_ would flip if she thought I knew about a secret G-Men investigation," Zoey said. "She was even touchy when I tangentially brought up the database hack."

" _Who says it has to be Leaf? Paul Rebolledo oversees Sinnoh._ "

Zoey had to laugh. "Paul's an impenetrable fortress of stoicism."

" _Like I said, he doesn't have to go on the record, and I wouldn't want him on the record for anything you wrote anyway,_ " Homa insisted. " _He's your friend. If you could just get him to say there was an investigation, you could go from there_."

That gave Zoey pause. She shut her eyes, thinking as she wetted her lips. When she opened them again, she said, "... We're both attending Ash Ketchum and Misty Waterflower's wedding next month. In person, maybe if I approach him the right way…"

" _A month is a long time away,_ " Homa reminded her.

"I know. You said it take it slow though," Zoey calmly replied.

" _So what will you do in the meantime?_ " Homa asked.

"I—I'll—" Zoey stopped short. What would she do? Keep pressing the campaign for answers? That had gotten her nowhere. Investigate the staff? That had only resulted in one mid-interest feature about Marinda Ortiz and Satchel Thompson and a lot of wasted time on Jennifer Dey. "I—" She stopped again when she heard a distinctive ringing come through her phone. "Hang on, Homa. Someone else is trying to reach me. I'll call you back in a few minutes."

" _All right._ "

Zoey hung up, then checked her caller ID—and was stunned.

"Marinda?" Zoey inquired, flabbergasted. Zoey was always the one calling Marinda; it was never the other way around, and she was bewildered by the sudden change. The timing was unsettling, too, given what she'd just been talking to Homa about.

" _Hello, Zoey,_ " Marinda greeted with her usual haughty nonchalance. " _It's your lucky night. Junia Stevens has decided she wants to grant you an interview._ "

Zoey felt her jaw drop—almost cartoonishly so.

"Wh—What?" Zoey stammered out.

" _The campaign is leaving for Fuschia City tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp,_ " Marinda went on. " _Junia Stevens will be available starting at 9 a.m. You may meet with her then at the Violet City Hotel & Spa up until 9:30 a.m. We will arrange a small conference room where you may conduct your interview._"

Zoey's head was spinning, but she managed sputter out, "Why now?"

" _Do you want the interview or not_?"

"Yes!" Zoey blurted out, a little too quickly and too eagerly, she realized. She reeled herself back in. "Yes. I will be there at 9 a.m. Thank you for the opportunity," she said in as measured a voice she could manage.

" _Good. I'll meet you in the lobby in the morning._ "

Zoey was then immediately met with a monotone ringing in her ears. She slowly lowered the phone, processing. She only lifted it again to make another call.

" _Zoey?_ " Homa's voice patched through. Zoey initially said nothing, suddenly discovering her tongue was dry. "... _Zoey?_ "

"Oh, sorry." Zoey shook her head. "You will not believe who just called: Marinda Ortiz. Junia Stevens is finally giving me an interview. Tomorrow."

Homa didn't reply at first; she, too, had to process this revelation. But then Zoey heard her let out a disbelieving laugh and say, " _Damn_."

"I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm a little freaked out right now."

" _Did Marinda explain the change in the no-interview policy?_ " Homa asked.

"No, hence why I'm a little freaked out," Zoey said.

" _She probably saw your Chats._ "

"My—what?"

" _Your Chats,_ " Homa emphasized. " _They were pretty harsh tonight. That's probably why the campaign reached out. I was going to call you about it, but you called me first about Adalet._ "

"... I don't understand," Zoey admitted.

" _Zoey, you're probably the most well-known print journalist in the country right now,_ " Homa said bluntly. " _I know you've been avoiding it, but after your arrest, your name has appeared in the lede of a column in just about every major publication in the nation. Your audience just got a whole lot bigger—and that much more threatening to Junia Stevens's campaign_."

"Threatening?" Zoey repeated.

" _To the point: They want you to write good things about Junia Stevens,_ " Homa elaborated. " _You dialed up the pressure tonight, and they're buckling under it. Everything Junia Stevens tells you tomorrow will be designed to pick apart your critiques and make you think and write differently about her._ "

"So what should I do?" Zoey asked.

" _Get to work tonight,_ " Homa answered with a shrug in her voice. " _They're not giving you a lot of time to prepare on purpose._ "

Zoey sucked in her breath through her teeth. "Okay. Wish me luck."

" _Good luck._ "

Zoey dropped her phone onto her bed. She sat down at her desk, pulled a notebook out from under Glameow, and retrieved a ballpoint pen, clicking it twice.

It was going to be an all-nighter.

* * *

Zoey arrived at the Violet City Hotel & Spa a full half-hour earlier than the instructed time with a coffee in hand and a thick layer of concealer painted beneath her eyes. It was around 2:30 a.m. that she took a shower, about an hour after her first coffee trip to the 24-hour café in the lobby. The second trip came shortly after 3 a.m., at which point Zoey decided it would probably be better just to stay in the café all night and have unlimited access to caffeine. She was there up until it was time to get dressed for her interview—and she wanted to ensure there was no possibility of her being late.

Zoey sat in the lobby for quite a while, reviewing her notes and suppressing a yawn every now and then. She was going to take a long, well-deserved nap after all this.

Around 8:50, Zoey began checking around the room religiously every two minutes, hoping maybe Marinda would be early herself, and Zoey would be able to squeeze a few extra minutes out of the interview. No such luck. 9:00 a.m. came, and Marinda was nowhere in sight.

9:02 a.m. Zoey took this as an opportunity to check her notes over one last time.

9:04 a.m. Zoey was tapping her foot anxiously. Could she have misunderstood Marinda? Was it the wrong time? Was she in the wrong place?

9:07 a.m. Nearly ten minutes late. Zoey chewed on her bottom lip, feeling frustration on top of her apprehension. If what Homa suggested was true, and this was all a move to get Zoey to like Junia Stevens more, then why—

"Zoey?"

Zoey snapped her head up, her eyes completely wide. Marinda was standing there, staring.

"You look horrible," Marinda continued flatly. Zoey pressed her lips together— _hard_ —but tried not to take offense.

"We can't all be supermodels all the time," Zoey said, standing up and smoothing out a wrinkle in her blouse. Marinda gave her an odd look.

"Well. Anyway," Marinda said, turning stiffly away. "She's upstairs if you'll follow."

Zoey did, and Marinda led her to the elevator. Marinda swiped a guest card key and pressed "4" on the keypad. Although it was only three floors higher, it was possibly the longest elevator ride Zoey had ever taken. There was no one else with them. Not a word, not a sound exchanged—not even any quirky elevator music to fill the silence.

Zoey cast Marinda a furtive glance. Marinda's gaze was firmly set forward; Zoey could tell she was physically tense. Zoey swallowed back a sudden bout of fear. What could be the reason behind this behavior if it wasn't what Adalet had unintentionally insinuated? Zoey briefly closed her tired eyes and recentered herself. There was no time to be nervous. This was what she had prepared all night for. She needed answers; she wouldn't get them in the way she wanted, but she could get what she needed. Something—anything—that might give hint to what Adalet meant about an ongoing investigation without ever revealing she knew about it.

The elevator doors slid open.

"This way," Marinda instructed. She led Zoey several doors down a long hallway before stopping in front of a closed door. Marinda knocked twice.

" _Please, come in!_ " It was unmistakably the voice of Junia Stevens. Marinda merely turned the knob and pushed the door open, gesturing for Zoey to go inside. Zoey nodded to her, and Marinda shut the door behind her.

It was a small conference room, maybe only big enough for a dozen people. Junia sat at the end of the table, working on her laptop. Seeing Zoey, Junia smiled over the screen, closed the lid, and stood up, extending her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Williams," she said. Although Zoey had attended dozens of Junia Stevens's campaign events and listened to just as many speeches by then, she was suddenly struck by the quality of her voice. She had felt an inkling of that awe on the first day she covered Stevens at a small kickoff event in Eterna City, but now that she was here and up close, Zoey could fully read the warm, deep tones in which she spoke. Zoey took her hand.

"The pleasure is mine," Zoey said. "Thank you for the opportunity."

"Well…" Junia started slowly as she sat down and invited Zoey to do the same. "... I felt so unsure for so long about having a one-on-one interview with anyone. But then I read your wonderful article with Marinda and Satchel, and I thought to myself, 'If there's anyone who I want to interview me, it's that Zoey Williams.'"

"Oh—well, thank you," Zoey said, surprised by the compliment. At the same time, she remained suspicious. The article was weeks old. Marinda had called her late _yesterday_. Bringing up the article was either a subterfuge to get in Zoey's good graces, an excuse to cover the fact that the campaign was concerned with Zoey's Chats, or an indication that Junia had been wanting to grant an interview to Zoey for weeks but needed to convince her advisers first. Maybe it was all of those things, or maybe it was none.

Zoey checked the time. It was 9:13 a.m. If Marinda was strictly serious about the 9:30 end time, despite the late start time, then Zoey only had seventeen minutes to accomplish what she needed to.

"Well, I know you're on a tight schedule," Zoey began in as friendly a tone as possible, "so I hope you don't mind if we start right away."

"Not at all."

Zoey quickly set all her materials on the table: her notes, a fresh pad of paper, a pen, and—"Do you mind if I record this?" Zoey asked, holding up her cell phone's audio app to show her.

"That would be fine," Junia consented, nodding.

Zoey pressed her record button, set it on the table, and immediately began. "So, let's start with last night, since I imagine the debate is still fresh in your mind," she said. "What do feel you accomplished in the debate?"

It was a softball question. Always start simple, she had learned—put the interviewee at ease, make it painless. Beginning with the hard-hitting, difficult-to-answer questions would make the person sitting across more defensive and less likely to give a forthright answer. And, it was the perfect question with which to begin.

Homa had said Junia Stevens probably wanted to grant Zoey an interview so she could redirect and reshape the negative narrative she had created. Zoey was giving her that opportunity—or at least, the illusion of it. Zoey didn't care about Junia's performance in the debate, and she didn't particularly care to correct her assessment of it either. But Zoey figured if she gave her some of what she wanted, then Junia would give some back.

"Well…" Junia was smiling as she began—beaming, really. Zoey felt a hint of satisfaction, and of relief. This _was_ the question Junia wanted. "I was quite proud of myself. You know, I am not a politician, so I may not be as well-spoken as some of my opponents, but I am consistent. You will not see me change my answers from crowd to crowd to score political points."

 _Got me there_ , Zoey internally admitted. Junia _hadn't_ changed any of her rhetoric since the first day of her campaign. It had always been the same vague spiel about the need for change and giving Napaj a fresh start. Even Junia's response now was echoed sentiments about her own ethos while on the campaign trail. At the same time, Zoey could tell the answer was very well-rehearsed, designed specifically to counteract the messages Zoey had sent yesterday.

Zoey quickly jotted down a few notes, mostly for show—Junia needed to believe she was genuinely engaged and not of the belief she was being the fed the same meaningless answers she had received for months.

"Some have criticized you for being 'nonspecific' in all your speeches—" _And by some, I mean me,_ Zoey internally remarked. "—and that you never articulate any specific policies to back up your principles and platform. Your response to this?"

It was a tougher question, but based on Junia's last response, Zoey knew it was another question she'd hoped to receive. This time, however, it was also a question to which Zoey actually wanted the answer.

"I don't see my responses as vague," Junia said.

"Oh?" Zoey inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I see them as flexible," Junia finished.

If Zoey hadn't exerted every ounce of self-control she had over herself, she would have laughed in Junia's face. Junia insisted she wasn't a politician, but it was the most empty, political answer Zoey could have imagined. The spin was dizzying.

"Could you elaborate on what you mean by that?" Zoey asked.

"Sure," Junia agreed. "I want to keep the promises I make to voters. But there is no precedent for this election and this office in Napaj. We candidates may have detailed visions of what the presidency may look like, but coming into that position, one of us may find out the promises we made cannot be kept. Connor Blanc can promise up and down to invest funding into private school vouchers, but should he be elected, would he really have that power? If not, then he's broken the biggest promise he made to his constituents."

Zoey listened attentively. She had an interesting point, Zoey had to admit. _Interesting_ , being the keyword, not necessarily rational.

"So… do you have a specific vision for Napaj?" Zoey asked.

"I do, actually," Junia said.

"You're just not willing to share it," Zoey continued doubtfully.

"I'm not willing to break any promises," Junia corrected. "But as I speak now and have spoken since the beginning of my campaign, I _can_ promise voters will get exactly what they vote for. There will be change. There will be a fresh start. They can with certainty expect that, no matter how the details unfold."

Junia's voice hadn't changed, and yet, there something distinctly ominous in that final statement. If it were said by any other person—any other candidate—Zoey would have thought nothing of it. Yet, a shiver crawled up her spine, and Zoey stared at her, perhaps for a beat too long.

Zoey's eyes flicked toward a wall clock. She was running out of time, and there was still more she wanted to ask— _so_ much more that it was a matter of deciding now what of the few questions Zoey had narrowed down last night were most important and which she could, with difficulty, let go.

"So color me curious," Zoey went on, "but I'm interested in what inspired your platform of advocating for this fresh start. You, Satchel, and Marinda were all in a STEM advocacy group together, your support originally grew out of the scientific community, and you even have a degree in space archeology—but your campaign messaging doesn't seem to make any appeals based on those things."

"By 'STEM advocacy group,' you mean GAG, correct?" Junia asked.

"Yes." Zoey nodded.

"Well, calling GAG a STEM advocacy group is a bit of a narrow definition," Junia said.

"It is?" Zoey's brows shot up.

"Don't misunderstand: GAG is a STEM advocacy group, but it was very much about using science to improve our world. When I talk about seeking a fresh start, I'm very much advancing the endgame mission of GAG," Junia explained. "There are so many horrible things that happen in this world, and I've been a personal witness to it. It's why I joined GAG, and it's why I'm running for office now. I want to make it better."

"A 'personal witness'?" Zoey repeated inquisitively. Junia smiled weakly.

"We've all had our hardships," she said. It was evident Junia did not want to elaborate on the subject, but Zoey decided it would be worth pushing her on the matter—just a little.

"Do you mind specifying what 'horrible things' means to you?" she asked.

"It's all that I've spoken about in my campaign," Junia said. "I'm not a one-issue candidate. Never have been. There is much that needs improvement: the economy, social inequality, education…"

It was a maddeningly roundabout answer—Maria was on-point when she called it the Junia Stevens' special.

"Yes, but," Zoey started, but she paused just long enough to slow herself down and quell her frustrations. She wanted to ask, _What happened to you that made you think the world is so awful and in need to change_? She needed more tact than that, though. After reconsidering her words, Zoey asked, "What shaped that worldview, though? Was it GAG? Something else? You were a trainer when you were younger. Did something happen then?"

Junia's expression didn't break, but she tilted her head just the slightest bit. "How did you learn I was a trainer?" The question wasn't demanding or suspicious, merely curious. Zoey saw through it, however: It was a diversion, a tactic to get her off the subject. Clearly, Junia didn't want to talk about what led to her political stances—which was worrisome for a political candidate.

Zoey pressed her lips together, now facing another decision. She could spend her final six or seven minutes pressing the issue and trying to pull a direct answer out of Junia, or she could move on.

"... Your records indicate you participated in the Sinnoh League in 1989," Zoey said with a degree of resignation.

"Oh, yes." A light filled Junia's eyes. "I did enter. I made it to the quarterfinals."

"That so?" Zoey didn't quite recall that detail, so she felt a little caught off guard. "If you did so well, then, why did you stop? You never entered another league."

"I did start collecting more Sinnoh badges to enter another one," Junia admitted, "but I ended up leaving that behind."

"Why?" Zoey insisted.

"Well, I got involved with GAG," Junia said in a matter-of-fact manner.''

Zoey stared at her confusedly, and she did some math in her head. "Around that time, after your first league, you would've been only 12. You became involved with GAG then? I thought you joined GAG in college."

"I met Marinda and Satchel in college, and they joined GAG then," Junia clarified. "But I had been involved for much longer. GAG is what inspired me to pursue my degree in space archeology, not the the other way around."

Zoey struggled to make some sense of this new revelation. "It's such an awfully young age to get involved with an advocacy group like that," she said.

"Sure, but I felt inspired to do so," Junia said, shrugging.

"By what?" Zoey asked.

"Whom," Junia corrected. "I met an older trainer outside Sunnyshore City. I challenged him to a battle, and he handily defeated me. We ended up talking afterward, and I found out he was a part of GAG. Things went from there, and I ended up joining."

"Who was the trainer?"

"Pardon?" Junia straightened up.

"What was the name of the trainer?" Zoey repeated. It was a simple, noncontroversial question—one made just to elicit information Zoey could research later—but Junia suddenly grew very visibly uncomfortable.

"His name—He—" Junia stammered. Somehow, Zoey realized, she'd gotten Junia to say too much. Junia quickly regathered herself, however, and said, "Well, it's just been so long that I've completely forgotten it!"

A boldfaced lie. Zoey could see right through her.

"He inspired you enough to join GAG, but you don't remember his name?" she questioned.

"I—" Junia was beyond flustered, and Zoey was hanging on the edge of her seat.

A knock at the door. Marinda poked her head inside.

"Junia, it's time," was all she said. Zoey felt like she was going to scream in stark contrast to Junia, who looked relieved.

"Is it? Well, the time just flew by!" Junia said with a forced laugh. Marinda shot her an odd look, and Junia stood up. "Well, thank you for stopping by, Zoey."

Zoey sucked in her breath, willed herself to stand, and managed a polite smile. "As I said before, the pleasure is mine. Perhaps we can sit down again sometime?"

" _If_ we have the time," Marinda said emphatically, ushering Junia out of the room. "I trust you can show yourself out."

Marinda then shut the door. They were gone, just like that. Zoey stared at the closed door, stunned, before she let out a loud groan and put her head down on the table.

She came for answers, but she was only left with more questions.


	8. VIRIDIAN CITY, KANTO

**Tom Waylend Suffers Heart Attack, Has  
No Plans to Drop Out  
**Marie Guadarrama, Elections  
April 16, 2011

Saffron City Mayor and presidential  
candidate Tom Waylend suffered a minor  
heart attack in his hotel room Thursday  
evening, according to a statement released  
by his campaign.

Waylend, who held an event in Vermillion  
City earlier the same evening, was admitted  
to the St. Anne's Hospital, where he is still  
recovering.

According to Waylend's campaign manager  
Jenna Pierre, there are no plans to drop out  
at this time.

"It's too early to think about that," Pierre said  
in an impromptu press conference outside  
St. Anne's. "Mr. Waylend is a fighter, and he  
is in stable condition, so he and his family  
will have to review their options once he is  
fully recovered."

 _Follow the reporter Marie Guadarrama at  
mguadarrama on Chatot._

* * *

For one night, Zoey wasn't going to think about politics. She wasn't going to think about Junia Stevens, or Jennifer Dey, or any of the other candidates. Not Erol Adalet, not Mitchell Sinternik, not Tom Waylend (whom Zoey was certain was going to drop out soon, despite what his team was telling the media—but she wasn't going to talk about that), and not Connor Blanc (whom already had dropped out _eleven_ days after his performance in the debate, earning Zoey some extra cash—but she wasn't going to talk about that either).

For one night, Zoey wasn't going to think about her job. Homa knew not to call—Zoey had taken the next couple of nights off, so Jeremy was covering Junia's campaign event in Cerulean City—and if for some reason she did, Zoey would let it go to voicemail. She wasn't going to discuss her coverage; if anyone brought it up, she would politely redirect the conversation. She wasn't going to prod Leaf or Iris about any potential investigations. For one night, she wasn't a journalist, and they weren't Champions. For one night, she was going to have fun.

Zoey repeated all this to herself in the mirror before there came a knock at the door.

"You ready to go?" Dawn asked, poking her head into the bathroom.

Zoey smiled and snapped her compact shut.

"Sure am," she said, following Dawn out. As they descended the stairs together, Zoey asked, "So do you know what the plan is anyway?"

"Not sure," Dawn admitted. "Daisy's weirdly been keeping it a secret, but Delia's coming, so it can't get _too_ crazy…"

"Yeah, I'm sure Misty wouldn't be too thrilled if her sister planned for bachelorette party to be at a strip club if her future mother-in-law was on the guest list," Zoey said, smirking.

Dawn laughed. "Maybe that's why Misty invited her."

Downstairs in the Ketchum living room, Daisy herself was sitting pretty atop a couch arm with an annoyed-looking Misty on standby. Daisy was spinning some car keys around her finger, looking positively mischievous—and it filled the room with a nervous energy that trickled into equally nervous chit-chat.

Upon seeing Dawn and Zoey, May positively beamed and waved for them to come over. She was talking to someone who was until that afternoon a stranger to Zoey: a pretty pale blonde named Lillie. Apparently, she was a part of a group of friends Ash had formed while briefly attending school in Alola. There were two other former female classmates, too: two women named Mallow and Lana. It was no surprise to Zoey. New friends of Ash Ketchum came out of the woodwork all the time, and she just rolled with it. They always turned out to be likeable people.

"Have you guys met Lillie?" May asked. "She's co-president of the Aether Foundation in Alola, and she's been telling me about what they do! It's really cool!"

"Oh stop," Lillie said shyly, though she was smiling. "You're embarrassing me."

"They're an organization that seeks to help injured Pokémon and cure Pokémon diseases," May went on regardless.

"That so?" Zoey said, looking at Lillie with an engaged expression. "Well, where were you in Napaj back in '09? We could've really used you!"

Lillie looked at her with wide, almost horrified eyes, causing Zoey to mentally stumble. A beat of silence followed before Zoey quickly added, "I'm joking. It sounds like amazing work."

Lillie managed a nervous smile and laugh then, and to recover, Zoey stuck out her hand and said, "Zoey Williams. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh!" Lillie's eyes lit up as she shook Zoey's hand. "You're the journalist, aren't you? May was telling me about you."

Zoey felt a little blindsided. She didn't expect her profession to come up so soon. "Uh, yeah!" she said.

Dawn locked arms with Zoey. "She's covering Junia Stevens," she said.

"Right—she's the science candidate, isn't she? The one with the degree in space archeology?" Lillie asked.

"Something like that," Zoey mumbled. Lillie's response struck Zoey then, and she looked at her curiously before asking, "How do you know about Junia Stevens?"

"I've been following Napaj's election from back home, just a bit," Lillie admitted. "Napaj and Alola are close allies—the election is a big deal. Even if it's not our president, it'll still affect us. It's important work you do, making sure people are informed."

Zoey was surprised by the unexpected compliment. "Well… thank you!" she said. Still, Zoey's mind was running through possible ways to change the subject, but it ended up not being an issue. Daisy loudly cleared her throat to get the room's attention.

"So is that everyone?" she asked, grinning.

"There should be fifteen," Serena—Ash's Alolan school friends weren't the only ones to travel far for the wedding—said helpfully. Leaf, whom Zoey noted was impressively big with child now, started a headcount.

"Wait—!" Delia Ketchum came stumbling down the stairs in a black dress, her auburn hair spilling past her shoulders rather than pulled together in its usual loose ponytail. "Sorry, I took longer than I usually do to get ready."

Bonnie smiled cheekily, saying, " _Wow_ , Ms. Ketchum! You look great! Trying to 'catch' a husband yourself tonight?" The pun earned some piteous laughter from the room and a blush from Delia.

"Just trying to keep up with you kids," she said.

Leaf finished her headcount and declared everyone was there, to which Daisy excitedly clapped her hands together and said, "Okay! Well, then I'm thrilled to share just where we're going tonight!"

Zoey could see Misty crossing her fingers with an expression that bared her internal pleadings with Arceus.

"... We're going to the TentaCool in Viridian City!" Daisy announced, and Misty's sigh of relief was so audible that it elicited laughter from everyone in the room. Daisy, however, looked at her confusedly.

"Wait? What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing," Misty answered.

"You don't like it?" Daisy pouted. "I mean, I could always call the Cheri Popper and see if they're not too busy…"

" _No!_ " Misty near-shouted. "The TentaCool is perfect!"

The incident prompted more laughter. Zoey didn't know what either the TentaCool or the Cheri Popper were—no one who wasn't a Kanto native probably did—but it was easy enough to guess at the _nature_ of the establishments based on the names and reactions alone.

They split into multiple vehicles for the 20-minute drive. Zoey ended up in the same car as the bride-to-be, from whom she learned more about the evening's destination.

"It's actually a really thoughtful choice of Daisy," Misty admitted from behind the wheel. "I was so scared she was going to go for some kind of club, but the TentaCool is a really nice restaurant and bar—good atmosphere too. They call it the 'TentaCool' because it has all these aquariums inside, and they're filled with a bunch of different Water-type Pokémon."

Zoey could see what Misty meant when she said it was a "thoughtful choice."

"So how will you feel if Ash ends up at a strip club tonight?" Zoey asked.

"He already did last night," Misty answered dismissively.

"Oh?"

"The guys had their whole bachelor shebang yesterday," May said.

"And I was cool with it," Misty added on. "I don't want to go to a strip club, but Ash going to a strip club is _hilarious_. Gary asked me in advance if I was fine with it anyway."

"That's surprisingly nice of him," Zoey said.

"I know, right?" Misty smirked at her. "It's like impending fatherhood made him more _mature_ or something."

Zoey had to laugh. "So what are the guys doing tonight then?"

"Babysitting," Dawn answered. "They've got Lizzie, Cicily, and Linnea." Linnea—that was Tracey and Daisy's year-old daughter.

Lana elbowed Misty in the side. "So basically, Ash is getting practice for the real thing, eh?"

Misty managed a nervous laugh. "I guess," she said, "but _trust_ me, that's not coming for a while."

"We'll see," May said in a song-song voice, and Misty hit her shoulder. Zoey grinned; it felt good to be among friends again.

Daisy had gone so far as to make reservations in advance, so a table for fifteen was already prepared when they arrived, and they were quickly seated.

"Ooh, it's been _so long_ since I last had Kantoan food," Mallow gushed as she looked over the menu. She then glanced up and asked, to no one in particular, "What are your recommendations?"

"The seafood rice balls here are _great_ ," Leaf answered, flipping around her own menu and tapping on a photo. "It's what I usually get, but they serve it with raw fish, so I'll have to pass this time."

"Why?" May asked, looking at her earnestly. Leaf stared.

" _Raw fish_ , May," Leaf emphasized.

"Yeah?"

"You're not supposed to eat raw seafood when you're pregnant," Iris elaborated for her without even glancing up from her own menu. "... But I'm not pregnant anymore, so I can do what I want! I'll get an order of those rice balls."

"Oh…" May looked down at her menu again and slowly turned a page. Zoey raised her brow at her as she took a sip of her water. An interesting reaction.

"Well, don't rub it in, bitch," Leaf playfully grouched.

"Just three more weeks, and you're done, dear," Delia offered encouragingly.

"It can't come soon enough," Leaf sighed.

"So do you know the sex of the baby?" Violet asked, leaning across the table toward her.

"Yes. Male," Leaf replied.

"Do you have a name?" Lillie asked.

"We do, but we're keeping it a secret," Leaf said with a wink. "You all can judge our choice _after_ the baby is born and it's too late for you to try to change our minds."

The evening proceeded on in a lively and cheerful manner. The waitress came by shortly thereafter and took everyone's order, and it didn't matter one bit that the food took a little longer than usual to arrive because the conversation and the company carried themselves so well. Zoey had told herself repeatedly she wasn't going to think about work or politics earlier because she thought it would difficult to disentangle herself from it all—but she was finding it was so much easier than she believed. And so, when Zoey excused herself to go to the restroom, she left with the intention of hurrying back.

That changed the moment she stepped outside the ladies' room, hands still slightly damp, when she saw someone familiar sitting at the bar. Zoey had to do a double-take, unsure of whether it was a mistake—but no, it really was him.

"Lucas?" Zoey inquired, cautiously approaching him.

He turned his whole body around on the barstool, and seeing her, he grinned.

"Well, hey Zoey," he greeted. His speech was still clear, but his cheeks were a little ruddy; he'd clearly had a couple drinks. "Imagine running into you here, of all places. Well, maybe not that surprising. Junia Stevens is touring Kanto now, right?"

"Yeah, she is," Zoey affirmed. "So what's your excuse for being here?"

"Eh." Lucas turned back. "Kind of a long story. I won't bore you with it."

Zoey pointedly sat on the open barstool beside him, and he let out half a laugh. "Well…" he started. "I don't mean to get all _personal_ on you or anything, but I came out to Kanto to visit a, uh, now ex-boyfriend."

"Oh." Zoey's tone dropped low. "I'm really sorry." That explained the drinking. Lucas shrugged.

"It's no big thing, really," Lucas said before finishing off the last of his drink. "We hadn't been together all that long. Still, sucks to find out you're getting cheated on." He cast Zoey a sideways glance. "Sorry, I'm oversharing, aren't I?"

"No, no," Zoey insisted. "I'm happy to lend an ear."

"I promise I'll be all right," Lucas said with a wave of his hand. "I was supposed to spend the week with the guy, but, uh, that's not happening, so I'm just killing time until my flight leaves Wednesday. I'm sure you'd be a much-less busy woman if you didn't lend an ear to all your sources."

"Yeah, well," Zoey conceded with a weak smile, "I like you better than most of my sources nowadays."

"Oh yeah?" Lucas grinned. "Junia Stevens just not doing it for you? I saw your write-up last month. Must feel nice being the only person to get an interview with her."

"That's one way of looking at it."

"Well, I can understand why you like me more. At least I'm not a liar." Lucas suddenly stopped, whistling. "Oof. Sorry. That was harsh of me. I've had too much to drink."

Zoey, however, was intrigued rather than offended—like she gave a damn whether someone impugned Junia's character anyway.

"A liar?" she repeated inquisitively. There were many different assessments she and others had made of Junia Stevens—naïve, unqualified, possibly a criminal—but "liar" wasn't necessarily one of them.

"I shouldn't have said that; I went too far," Lucas continued.

"No, please elaborate," Zoey persisted. She wondered: Did he know something she didn't? Were there rumors she hadn't heard? Had talk of the unconfirmed criminal investigation reached—

"She wasn't a quarterfinalist in the Sinnoh League," Lucas said.

Zoey's shoulders fell. _That was it_? She lied about how well she did in the Sinnoh League. So what?

"She wasn't in the Sinnoh League at all, actually," Lucas went on.

That was more interesting, at least, but it was also incorrect. Zoey gave him an odd look.

"No, she was," she said. "Her record shows she was in the 1989 Lily of the Valley conference."

"What? Are you sure?" Lucas blinked.

"Positive," Zoey said. "I've got a digital copy of it straight from the G-Men."

"Huh…" Lucas sat back, thinking on this. Before he had a chance to say anything further or Zoey had a chance to respond, she heard her name called out.

"Zoey!" Dawn jogged up to her, and Zoey quickly turned in her chair. "Where've you been? I was starting to worry you'd gotten sick."

"No, sorry," Zoey quickly apologized. "I've been here the whole time. I ran into someone I know." She shifted slightly in her seat to gesture toward her companion. "This is Lucas. He's a former source for an old story."

"Oh!" Dawn extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you!"

"Same!" Lucas grinned, taking her hand and shaking it. "You must be Dawn, right?"

She appeared taken aback. "I am. How'd you know?"

"Oh, uh." Lucas suddenly appeared nervous. "Well, you're a Top Coordinator and all…" Zoey peered at him curiously.

"Ah, sorry." Dawn managed a laugh at herself. "I should've known." She then turned to Zoey again. "We're going to have a toast to Misty soon, but we didn't want to start without you…"

"Aw, gee, I'm so sorry." Lucas then quickly turned toward Zoey, too. "I didn't realize I was keeping you from friends."

"It's okay," Zoey assured him. "I wanted to chat." She then glanced toward Dawn, saying, "I'll be there in a moment, I promise."

"Okay!" Dawn agreed before waving to both her and Lucas and disappearing back to their table. Zoey smiled her way then focused her attention back on Lucas as an idea began to take form in her head.

"You said you're not leaving until Wednesday?" she asked.

"Yeah," Lucas confirmed.

"And you don't have anything to do until then?"

"Clearly not," Lucas said, holding up his empty beer glass as proof.

"Well, why don't you come with me tomorrow to my friends' wedding as a plus-one?" Zoey suggested. Lucas blinked.

"As in, like a date?" he inquired.

"Something like that," Zoey said. "But you're gay, aren't you?"

"Something like that," Lucas repeated back to her. Now it was Zoey's turn to look confused, so he merely grinned and clarified, "I'm bisexual."

"Oh!" Zoey then appeared embarrassed. "I'm sorry for assuming—"

"Nah, it's no problem," Lucas quickly assured her. "I'm more surprised because you—and, uh, don't take offense to this, I mean it with the utmost respect—but you _ooze_ lesbian vibes."

Zoey burst out into laughter. She took no offense—something in the way he said it was _genuinely_ funny. When she recovered, she said, "I am. I actually have a girlfriend back home in Sinnoh."

She was surprised with herself that she admitted it so readily: Her and Candice's relationship was typically something she kept under wraps. She closely guarded her relationship status from colleagues, acquaintances, even Homa, and it wasn't until a couple years ago she started talking openly about it with just her closest friends. It wasn't that she feared their rejection—what did she care about what her acquaintances thought, and she knew her friends would be nothing but supportive—but she had personally witnessed how the media's spotlight could burn up a relationship. That, she feared, and she didn't need the judgment of strangers who only knew her as a young Top Coordinator who died and came back to life.

But with Lucas, it felt safe.

"Why isn't she going with you, then?" he asked.

"She was going to," Zoey explained. "But she's a teacher, and she had this big gallery thing planned with her students this weekend. I told her to stay home. She's still taking time off to come spend some time with me on Monday, but for the wedding, I'm on my own."

"Ah, I get it," Lucas said. He then thought for a moment longer before adding, "Well, sure! I'll come with you tomorrow. And it won't be a problem for the happy couple?"

"Oh no, no problem," Zoey insisted. "You'd literally just be taking my girlfriend's place on the guest list."

"All right, cool," Lucas agreed. "In that case, can I get your number? I'll text you later, and we can figure out how we'll meet up."

"Yeah, absolutely," Zoey said, now smiling wide as she pulled out her cell.

After exchanging numbers, they parted ways with the promise they'd see each other again soon, and Zoey rejoined her group at the table. Dinner had long-ago been finished, and everyone was just chatting and maybe drinking or considering desert.

"Good to see you again, Zoey," Leaf greeted upon her return. "Everything come out okay?"

"Just fine, Leaf," Zoey replied with a tired smile.

Seeing that Zoey had returned, Daisy grinned and tapped her glass, raising it high in the air.

"Well, now that we're all here…" she started, "I'd like to propose a toast to my baby sister—" She extended the glass in the direction of Misty, who offered a crooked smile in response. "—and her last night of being an unmarried woman!"

* * *

For once, Zoey was glad she was only a guest and not a member of the wedding party. She had been involved in both May and Dawn's weddings—an honor, certainly—but she didn't miss the chaos with dress mishaps, uncooperative hair, crying children, cold feet, and family drama (if Harley counted as "family"). But more importantly, it freed up her morning.

After getting dressed, Zoey convinced Ritchie to lend her his car, which was no trouble at all, and she took off for Viridian City again. Lucas had sent her the address to his hotel late last night, and when she was a couple minutes away, she texted him to say his was close. When she pulled up, he was already waiting outside in a light gray dress shirt and tie.

"Wow, Ms. Williams, you look great," Lucas greeted as he climbed into the seat beside her, grinning.

"I could say the same to you," Zoey teased back. She then added, more seriously, "Thanks for coming with me."

"You're thanking me? I should be thanking _you_. A nice wedding will really get my mind off things," Lucas said. "Anyway, I meant to ask: Who's getting married?"

"Oh!" Zoey realized she had never divulged that detail. "You'd probably know them—not personally—but I'm sure you've heard of them."

"That so?"

"It's Ash Ketchum and Misty Waterflower."

Lucas's jaw dropped. "What?! No way. We're going to the _Champion's_ wedding?"

"That okay?" Zoey asked, amused. It was always funny to her, meeting people who were star-struck by the Champions. She knew all five of them personally, so she never experienced that sense of awe.

"Yeah, it's okay!" Lucas grinned again. "Everyone in Napaj would _love_ to have an invitation, and I'm just... getting to go."

Zoey laughed. "Well, to be fair, I don't think it's that tough to get an invite to an Ash Ketchum event."

Lucas then blinked, suddenly looking confused. "What do you mean?" he asked. Zoey, too, blinked and then realized it was only a joke her inner circle would understand.

"Nevermind," she dismissed, and Lucas didn't press any further.

The wedding was to be held on Professor Oak's ranch—there was plenty of room to accommodate many guests, and Ash was insistent on his and Misty's Pokémon being present (and there were a lot of them)—and the weather was perfect for an outdoor event. Clear skies, warm weather, beautiful green scenery… It was definitely Zoey's favorite location for any of the weddings she had attended, although the Village of Dragons might come close.

The place was abustle with people by the time they arrived. Zoey wasn't sure she could name even a third of the guests, and that surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn't have.

"Wow," Lucas whistled. "Is that what you meant when you said it isn't tough to get an invite?"

"Some people collect Pokémon; Ash Ketchum collects friends," Zoey half laughed. In the distance, she could see his pack of Tauros speeding around. "Although, he's collected a lot of Pokémon, too." Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a familiar face.

"Hey, Ritchie!" she called out to the groomsman. He turned and smiled before approaching.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your car again," Zoey said.

"Hey, no problem," Ritchie said with a wave of his hand. He then looked over her shoulder and asked, "So, you're Lucas? Zoey told me she was bringing you with her."

"And you must be Ritchie Jayne," Lucas said. Zoey raised her brow at him, and Lucas tensed under her gaze.

"Yup, that's me!" Ritchie affirmed, disaffected. "Nice to meet you." He looked at Zoey again before continuing, "Anyway, you guys probably wanna find seats. I think we're starting soon."

"Thanks," Zoey said. "I'll make sure to get your keys back to you by tonight."

"No worries," Ritchie assured her.

He left to attend to his responsibilities, and Zoey and Lucas moved on to find seating. They settled on the edge of the fourth row. Zoey could see that under the beautiful flower-decorated arch at the front, Ash was speaking with Barry. Ash was nervous, she could tell; he was shuffling his feet around, wearing a lopsided smile. Meanwhile, Tracey and Ritchie were making their way around telling guests the ceremony was starting soon.

"Who is that?" Lucas asked after a moment with a subtle gesture toward Barry. "The officiant?"

Zoey looked at him a little incredulously. "Seriously?" she half-laughed. "You know _all_ my friends _except_ for that one?"

"I—" Lucas flushed pink. She'd finally called him out on his suspicious expertise on her social circle. "Look—"

"You don't need to explain it to me," Zoey quickly interjected. "I already know." Lucas shut his mouth, though he was still flustered and looking seriously conflicted. Zoey glanced away, hoping the moment would pass, and that was when she found herself face-to-face with Lizzie Rebolledo in her mother's arms.

"Mind if we join you?" Dawn asked with Paul standing in tow. He looked about every bit as thrilled to be at the social event as Zoey would have expected of him.

"No, not at all," Zoey said, making room for them to move into the seats beside her and Lucas, who noticeably stiffened upon Paul's passage. Zoey had to suppress laughter but quickly turned her attention back to Lizzie. She was so much bigger than when Zoey last saw her, though she still seemed fussy as ever, wriggling in the pale blue dress Dawn had outfitted her with.

"Wow, you're growing up _so fast_ ," Zoey cooed. Lizzie only stared, expressionless. Zoey smiled tiredly, adding, "You definitely are your father's daughter."

"She's only going to be a year old in a week, so I'm not sure what you're expecting," Paul grunted. Dawn hushed him and directed the conversation to more pleasant matters.

"Lucas, I didn't realize you'd be here today!" she said. She then glanced toward her husband, saying, "Paul, this is Lucas, Zoey's friend."

"It's, uh, nice to meet you…" Lucas said, still visibly nervous but trying to play it cool. "... sir." He added that last part with uncertainty. Zoey accidentally let a partial laugh slip through her nostrils, and Lucas glowered at her. Paul either didn't notice or didn't care.

"How do you know Zoey?" he asked. It was his form of making friendly conversation—and anyone who knew him like Dawn and Zoey understood that—but given his default stern disposition, it came off more as suspicious questioning.

"Oh, uh—" Lucas was practically sweating. "—I was a source for her on one of her articles about Junia Stevens, and we just happened to run into each other again last night."

Remembrance struck Zoey then, and she drew in a sharp but silent breath as she stared wide-eyed at Paul. She remembered her purpose that day: She told Homa the only person of the five Champions who would have knowledge of an investigation into Junia Stevens and possibly be even willing to privately confirm its existence was Paul. Ash and Iris weren't especially involved in the affairs of the G-Men; Zoey didn't know Max well enough; and no way Leaf would breathe a word about an internal investigation, even to a friend. Paul was her chance—but sitting there with him, soaking in his personality, reminded her that this would be no easy task.

"I see," Paul replied.

The procession began. Ash was as fidgety as ever, even when he was joined by his more cool-headed groomsmen: Brock, Gary, Tracey, and Ritchie. Zoey could see Brock giving his long-time friend a last few tips to stay calm, and Ash sucked in his breath and nodded. The bridesmaids—Misty's sisters and Leaf—seemed oblivious to Ash's agitation, the former because they were glowingly excited to see the bride, the latter because she was too miserably pregnant to be outside.

Delia was escorted to the front row by Professor Oak, and they sat beside two other professors whose names escaped Zoey, but she knew they were from Alola. Misty's Golduck came down the aisle haphazardly tossing flowers and was followed by Ash's Pikachu carrying two gold rings with more pomp and circumstance than Zoey had ever seen of the Pokémon.

Then came the bride in a gorgeous mermaid wedding gown. She was positively glowing with not a hint of anxiety in her expression—and when Zoey looked to the front again, she saw that all of Ash's uncertainties, in an instant, had faded away, and he was grinning from ear to ear. He reached out and grasped Misty's hand when she reached him.

"All right, let's get _started_!" Barry excitedly burst out once both were present. "And in good time, too, 'cause I wasn't sure if Ash could'a lasted another minute."

The audience laughed; Ash did, too, though more nervously, and Misty smirked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I like this guy," Lucas remarked under his breath. Zoey hummed in agreement.

"This is Barry's third wedding. He also officiated Paul and Dawn, and May and Drew," she said. "I assume you know who those people are."

"Ha… yeah…" Lucas admitted. "I actually remember Barry's name, too, now that you've brought it up. He's the guy who was supposed a Sinnoh Frontier Brain."

Zoey's lips suddenly tightened. "Mhm."

Lucas must have recognized it was a touchy subject because he quickly added, "Okay, shutting up now."

"... But don't let _me_ do all the talking," Barry went on after rambling a little during Zoey and Lucas's conversation. "It's _your_ turn to talk about each other."

Ash and Misty both looked at each other shyly before the former cleared his throat.

"I, uh, never thought we'd be here when I borrowed your bike fifteen years ago," he started, eliciting some more laughs from the crowd.

"More like 'stole,'" Misty corrected, grinning.

"Well, I paid you back, didn't I?" Ash said, also grinning. "The point is, I don't think it was love at first sight for either of us. But I'm glad it wasn't, 'cause I got to fall in love with my best friend." Misty's chest visibly swelled. "And now I'm gonna get to spend the rest of my life with her; there's nothing that'll make me happier, so I'll work hard to make sure you're happy, too. I promise it."

Misty looked as though she were exercising all of her restraint not to kiss him right then. To compensate, she tightened her grip on his hands.

"Ash," she began, and he noticeably shuddered with anticipation, "it wasn't love at first sight for me either—but I know I fell first, and I fell hard. You made me wait a long time—" Ash laughed sheepishly in response. "—but that wait was worth it because we got to grow up together. And now, we'll get to grow old together."

Zoey noticed Dawn lacing her fingers through Paul's. She flicked her gaze toward the Sinnoh Champion, studying his expression—unreadable, as usual.

"Pikachu, bring up the rings!" Barry ordered. Pikachu proudly strode forward, holding out the pillow where the rings were set. Ash and Misty both bent down to take them, each thanking Pikachu, before straightening back up. Ash slid her ring on first, and Misty followed.

Zoey wondered what she should say to him—to Paul. She would have to get him alone; there was no question about that. Making that happen with a guest list as large as this one would likely prove a challenge.

"Ash, do you take Misty to be your wife, to love through good and bad, to care for through better or for worse, as long as you both live?"

"You bet I do!"

… Then again, maybe the large amount of people would be a blessing. They could blend in very easily. Still, that left the issue of how she would even approach him about Stevens.

"And Misty, do you take Ash to be your husband, to love through good and bad, to care for through better or for worse, as long as you both live?"

Zoey shook away her thoughts and looked forward again. It was a lovely ceremony; she should be paying attention.

"Of course."

"Then by the power vested in me by GetOrdained-Dot-Com, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!" Barry declared.

Ash and Misty pulled each other in quickly—and the crowd cheered. Zoey was clapping, and she exchanged a look with Lucas, who offered her a smile in return.

* * *

Zoey had her sights set on her target all night, waiting for _just_ the right moment to pounce. Even as she socialized with friends, introducing them to Lucas, having a drink or two, she kept a pulse on the room, attuning herself to Paul's place in it. Right now, he and Dawn were speaking with Cynthia and Steven. Emily was with them, too, looking positively precious in her silvery dress with her blonde hair perfectly curled.

"Zoey!"

Tearing her careful eye away from the Sinnoh Champion, Zoey smiled when she saw Barry, Kenny, and an unfamiliar woman with reddish hair and pale green eyes approaching.

"Hey," Zoey playfully greeted. "I haven't seen you guys all night. Barry, nice job with the ceremony, as usual."

"Thanks," Barry proudly replied. "My goal is to have married _all_ my friends before I die."

"Well, goal failed, because Cilan and Iris got married without you," Kenny said a little wryly. "And so did Gary and Leaf for that matter." Barry glowered at him.

"I'm gonna have to fine you for that reality check," he grumbled.

"There are always vow renewals," Lucas suggested, coming up from behind Zoey with two drinks in hand, one of which he promptly handed to her. She smiled and thanked him before taking a sip.

"Who are you?" Barry half-demanded, pointing at Lucas. "I like you!"

Zoey quickly withdrew her drink from her lips. "Oh, guys," she interjected. "Let me introduce you to Lucas. He's my plus-one for the evening since Candice can't be here."

"Well, nice to meet'cha, Lucas," Barry said. "I appreciate your positive thinking."

Lucas grinned. "Glad I could help."

"That reminds me," Kenny started, "I ought to introduce to _my_ plus-one." He then gestured to the woman standing beside him, saying, "This is Leona. She's an old friend of mine and Dawn from back in preschool."

"Oh?!" Zoey's brow shot up.

"If you've ever wondered about the origins of the nickname 'Dee Dee,' that came from the both of us," Leona said with a wave of her hand between herself and Kenny. "Zoey, right? I've heard a lot about you."

"Your name is familiar, too," Zoey admitted with a curious smile. "I'm... glad we could meet."

"The same." A brief lull in the conversation followed as Leona studied Zoey's face; then, she smiled, turned to Lucas and asked, "What is it that you're drinking? It looks fantastic."

"It _is_ ," Lucas said glowingly. "It's just some gin and cranberry juice, but it's good stuff." Leona smiled at him then cast Kenny a furtive glance. He got the message.

"Oh, uh," he said, "I'll go… get us some…"

As soon as he was out of earshot, Leona turned back to Zoey with her hands on her hips and a roguish grin. "I know that look," Leona said, almost as if it were a song.

"What look?" Zoey inquired.

"You're wondering what happened to Ursula."

Zoey _had_ wondered. Last she heard, Kenny and Ursula were still dating. They'd been on Nikki Martinez's stupid Top 10 Napajian Couples list. And Zoey doubted Ursula was the type who'd be cool with her beau taking another date to a wedding, even platonically, unlike Candice and herself.

"Well, I didn't want to be rude…" Zoey confessed.

"It's not rude at all," Leona half-laughed. "I'm just the rebound date. Dawn set it up. Kenny's been kind of… down since he and Ursula broke up. First girlfriend and all."

"A rebound date, huh?" Lucas said with jest in his voice. "Hey, that's just like me and Zoey!"

Barry suddenly blanched. "Wait, you and Candice _broke up_?!" he said disbelievingly.

" _No!_ " Lucas and Zoey suddenly both said in unison. Lucas hurriedly added, "It's all me. I recently split up with my boyfriend, and Zoey offered to take me here tonight for company."

"Oh, I see." Barry calmed down, but he appeared intrigued regardless.

"So do you know how Ursula and Kenny broke up?" Zoey asked.

"I'll spare you the long story, but from what I understand, it had something to do with Ursula using Kenny to get close to the Champions for… information? Gossip? Paul, in particular, I think," Leona explained.

"Huh…" Zoey mused. "Well… I can't say I'm surprised." The conversation reminded her: She glanced around and located Paul again. Dawn was no longer around, but now Iris and Cilan were speaking with him. Zoey frowned, but then she reassured herself: Surely Paul would tire of all the social interaction soon and excuse himself to be alone.

"So, GetOrdained, huh?" Lucas casually struck up a conversation with Barry.

"Yeah!" Barry enthused. "Best decision I ever made, hands down."

"Of course it is, given you don't make many _good_ decisions," Zoey teased.

"I resent that," Barry pouted.

"The energy drink in your espresso?" Zoey reminded him.

"Now _there's_ a story," Kenny said, coming back with drinks.

"Oh, please tell," Lucas said.

"Well, it was—"

"—No, _no_!" Barry dramatically cut Kenny off. "You'll get it all wrong! Let me tell it."

As he launched into an unnecessarily long-winded explanation, Zoey again looked past him toward Paul. Cicily was fussing, so Cilan and Iris departed to care for her, and Paul, finally alone, went to sit at an empty table. Perfect timing. Zoey looked back at her company. Lucas seemed comfortably amused by Barry's rambling story, so she muttered, "I'll be back soon," and hurried off.

Paul looked absorbed in thought when Zoey approached, so she almost felt bad when she slipped into an open seat near him, breaking his reviere.

"Where's Dawn?" Zoey asked, wanting to set a friendly tone.

"She went to feed Lizzie," Paul replied. "She'll probably be a little while."

"Well, that's fine," Zoey admitted, "because I actually wanted to talk to you."

There was a flash of confusion in Paul's normally expressionless face.

"What for?" he asked.

Zoey glanced aside to think, and to ensure no one closeby was listening. Then, she leaned confidentially toward Paul, saying, "Look, I know you appreciate it when people are blunt, so I'll get straight to the point: Are the G-Men conducting an investigation into Junia Stevens?"

Paul's face hardened again.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"She's Sinnoan, and you're one of the more involved Champions when it comes to the G-Men. You'd know."

"So what makes you think I'd tell you?"

Zoey knew he would be difficult. She knew he'd resist saying anything. She had mentally prepared for it. Still, when confronted by his defenses, she stumbled.

"We're friends, so I—" She suddenly stopped short, seeing his reaction to her words. Paul straightened up, placing his hands stiffly on table to push himself away. He was scowling.

"'We're friends'?" he repeated venomously. "That's it? So you think because I'm your friend, you and your editor can use me to elevate your paper?"

Of all the things Zoey expected, this wasn't one of them.

"Paul—" she started to reason with him.

"No." He stood up. "Just leave me be."

He stormed off, and Zoey inhaled sharply, nearly jumping to her feet to run after him—but she stopped her herself and slowly sank back into her seat, staring where had gone. He disappeared into the crowd, and Zoey groaned, dipping her face into her hand. That certainly could have gone better.

She was just starting to think about heading back toward Lucas when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Zoey? Are you okay?"

She looked up to see May looking at her worriedly. Drew was standing behind her, also looking a little concerned.

"I'm fine, May. Thanks," Zoey said, sitting up. "Just need another drink is all. Want to come with me?"

May smiled crookedly. "I'm good," she said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure," Zoey insisted.

"Well…" May still appeared unconvinced, but she must have decided it was better to move on because she added, "I just wanted to let you know Misty's going to toss the bouquet soon. You should try to catch it!"

"I'll pass," Zoey said. "Thanks for your concern, May."

"Okay…" May stepped back. "I'll see you later, probably!"

"For sure," Zoey agreed with a nod.

With hesitation, May left to further spread the word, though Drew lingered behind a moment longer. Once his wife was gone, Drew turned back to Zoey, folded his arms, and said, "So what happened with Candice? I saw you were hanging around with some strange guy… ?"

"His name is Lucas, and he has nothing to do with this right now," Zoey assured him. "Candice and I are fine. She just couldn't make it tonight."

"Why couldn't she make it?" Drew craned an eyebrow. "She would've gladly taken off work to be here with you."

"She's coming tomorrow," Zoey said, starting to get annoyed.

"So her missing the wedding has nothing to do with your reluctance to get married?" Drew questioned.

"May's pregnant, isn't she?" Zoey said lightly, changing the subject. If he was going to try to dig into her insecurities, she might as well do the same to him, just to signal he should back off. Drew tightened his lips, and Zoey went on, "Some comments she made last night, coupled with her refusal to drink… you know, it makes me wonder."

"She is," Drew admitted, and he seemed to get the message. "But we haven't told anyone, other than her family."

Zoey rose to her feet.

"Well, congratulations," she said, patting his shoulder. "Really." She started to leave, but Drew gently grasped her wrist, stopping her. She turned to him again.

"Zoey, I'm sorry I pushed you," he said, "but I can tell something's wrong. We're friends, and you and I have always been honest with each other."

"It really isn't anything to do with Candice," Zoey said, removing herself from his grip. "I'm just a little frustrated with my job right now."

Drew's face twisted a little. "Your job?" he inquired. "You're at a wedding. Don't worry about your job."

"Yeah, I got that," Zoey mumbled before finally pulling herself away.

Lucas seemed to be in good spirits chatting with Barry and Kenny, for which Zoey was glad, though Leona was now conspicuously absent. As Zoey approached, she caught Lucas's eye, and he waved—but at that same moment, she felt _another_ person grab onto her by the arm. She swung around and found herself face-to-face with Leona.

"Hey! I was wondering where you were," Leona exclaimed. "The bride is tossing the bouquet! Let's go!"

"Oh, I—"

Protesting was useless; Zoey was already being dragged along, and she soon found herself among the gaggle of other unmarried women, including but not limited to: Serena and Bonnie, two of Misty's sisters, Ash's schoolmates, and now herself and Leona.

"You ready?" Misty asked with a nervous glance backward. When her question was met with a hum of excitement, she said, "Okay!" She turned again and threw the bouquet high over her shoulder.

There was a mad dash forward, and Zoey was happy to back off. When Violet leapt for the bouquet, however, her fingers barely grazed the stem, and it flipped further back—and without thinking, Zoey reached to catch it with total ease. She stared at the lovely arrangement of pale blues and yellows for a moment, processing, before realizing what she'd done.

A cheer went up from the crowd. Zoey turned and saw Lucas give her a thumbs up. May was glowing; Drew was looking smug—and Zoey could only offer a sheepish smile in return.

* * *

The tossed bouquet sat quietly on the dashboard of Ritchie's car on the way back to Viridian City. Zoey and Lucas sat equally quiet, too. After giving their best to the bride and groom, they departed for Lucas's hotel, and not much was said.

Zoey, for her own part, was dwelling on the conversation with Paul that had gone so terribly wrong. His insinuations—that she was using him to advance her career—they, well, stung. And she felt awful.

She smoothed her thumbs up and down the steering wheel. It had never occurred to her that maybe she was taking advantage. When Homa put her on this beat, she said she trusted her to utilize her "connections" professionally if need be. Zoey read that as never putting them on the record to avoid a conflict of interest. But another line, a different line, had been crossed tonight.

"You, uh… okay?" Lucas timidly inquired, breaking the silence.

"Huh?" Zoey shook herself out of her thoughts. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"You haven't been saying much," he pointed out.

"Sorry," Zoey said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I just have a lot on mind."

"Was it something I did?"

"No, no," she hurriedly insisted. "It's not you at all."

Lucas fell back into his seat, frowning. Zoey's eyes did not stray from the road. Another veil of silence fell over them.

Evidently, Lucas did not wholly take Zoey at her word when she told him he had done nothing wrong because he eventually cleared his throat and said, "So… when you said that I didn't need to explain why I knew everyone… did you mean...?"

"The Fourteen?" Zoey finished for him more bluntly. "Yeah." Lucas went stiff, but Zoey managed to flash a smile at him. "You don't need to feel weird about it. I don't talk about it a lot—none of us do—but I know it earned me some name recognition beyond the coordinator titles and bylines."

Lucas wetted his lips and smiled weakly. "You seem to feel weird about it," he said.

"... I guess I do," Zoey admitted, looking forward again. "I've tried to distance myself from it, but I can't deny it's had a huge impact on my life. It's why I became a journalist."

"That so?" Lucas gently encouraged. Zoey realized she was starting to tread into dangerous territory. Lucas didn't know the truth—and she would have to watch her words if she didn't want to reveal it.

"The whole thing just made more concerned about the League, our government, and holding it accountable," Zoey said. If he asked her to elaborate, she'd muddle the matter, and he'd back off.

Luckily, he didn't ask.

"Well, good thing you're covering Junia Stevens then," Lucas said, grinning. "Someone's gotta hold _her_ accountable."

"Hah… yeah…" Zoey trailed off.

They arrived back at Lucas's hotel. He let himself out but ducked his head back into the car.

"Seriously, thanks for tonight," he said. "And, uh… you ever wanna say more about you and that whole deal with the Fourteen, I'll lend you an ear since you offered yours to me. I owe you that much."

Zoey knew, then, that he was aware she was hiding something—but he wasn't going to push her. She appreciated that.

"Thanks to you, too," she said. "Have a good night."

"See ya."

A couple of blocks away, Zoey's cell phone rang. She flicked her gaze toward it sitting in her cup holder and, seeing the caller ID, decided to pull over. After all, this was the only night of her time off that Zoey said Homa could call.

" _How did it go with Paul tonight?_ " Homa asked after they had waded through their standard greetings.

"Not well," Zoey admitted with a sigh, "and I'm sorry, but I don't really want to talk about it tonight. I'll… need to think over what to do from her when I'm feeling fresh in the morning."

" _I understand. Sorry to hear that it didn't go as you'd expected._ " A pause. " _Anyway, there's another reason I called. Tom Waylend did drop out. I know you're off, but if you could get a quote from Marinda for Marie's story..._ "

"Yeah, it's no problem," Zoey mumbled in agreement. "I'll talk to you later, Homa."

After hanging up, Zoey turned on the light in her car and pulled out a notepad and pencil from beneath her dashboard. Then, she picked up her phone again and dialed Marinda's number. She had it memorized.


	9. PALLET TOWN, KANTO

**Tom Waylend Drops Out, Citing Health  
** Marie Guadarrama, Elections  
April 18, 2011

Saffron City Mayor and presidential  
candidate Tom Waylend announced he  
would be withdrawing his name from the  
race in a campaign statement released  
Sunday night.

"I wish to express a deep gratitude to all  
those who have supported me throughout  
this election," Waylend wrote, "but for the  
sake of my family and my health, I need to  
step back and take time for myself."

Waylend reportedly suffered a heart attack  
in his hotel room Saturday and was rushed  
to the emergency room at St. Anne's  
Hospital in Vermillion City.

Other presidential candidates expressed  
well wishes to Waylend's decision.

"I've known Tom for many, many years,"  
Goldenrod City Mayor Mitchell Sinternik  
said at a press conference in Solaceon  
Town, Sinnoh. "He's a great man and would  
have made a great president. I wish him the  
best in his recovery."

Erol Adalet offered a few brief comments to  
reporters outside his hotel in Cianwood City,  
Johto.

"I'm sorry that this happened to Mr.  
Waylend, and I hope good health finds him  
soon," he said.

Spokeswoman to the Junia Stevens  
campaign Marinda Ortiz said, "We thank  
Tom Waylend for the respectful manner in  
which he conducted his campaign and wish  
him the best."

 _Jeremy Bunt, Aiyalah West-Rosewood, and  
Zoey Williams contributed to this report._

 _Follow the reporter Marie Guadarrama at  
mguadarrama on Chatot._

* * *

With its stem freshly trimmed, the bouquet Zoey caught at the wedding sat in a clear vase atop the nightstand beside her bed—though, she wouldn't tell Candice where she got the arrangement, thereby relegating it to a simple nice touch by the local inn.

"I just love Pallet Town," Candice gushed as she set her luggage down at the end of the bed. "It's so cute and quaint, and the weather is beautiful this time of year. … I'm sad I missed the wedding."

"I made sure to give Ash and Misty your best," Zoey said, setting her card key down on the table before collapsing into an extra lounge chair. She closed her eyes and leaned back, letting herself sink into the cushions. Candice didn't reply, which Zoey found strange, so she opened her eyes again and saw her staring with a worried smile.

"What?" Zoey asked, straightening up.

"You're really bothered by what happened with Paul, aren't you?" Candice said with a tilt of her head.

Zoey had explained the whole situation to Candice on the ride from the Viridian City Interregional Airport, but she had downplayed her own feelings of guilt on the matter—or so she had thought. She didn't want to get in deep with Candice about her work problems when she was (a) still off work; (b) spending time with her for the first time in months. So much for that.

"What makes you think that?" Zoey asked, still too stubborn to admit she was upset.

"I dunno," Candice shrugged. "I can just tell with you."

Zoey was quiet for a moment longer. Then she sighed.

"I suppose it's been on my mind," she said. Candice smiled weakly again and shifted her position on the bed so she was facing Zoey.

"I'm sure what happened was just a misunderstanding between you two," Candice assured her. "You know how Paul is, and he's probably miffed over what happened with Ursula."

Zoey blinked. She hadn't made the connection to Ursula—it was just something she mentioned off-hand when talking about the wedding.

"Maybe," Zoey conceded, "but I also think he had a point. I'd be upset if he or Leaf or any of the other Champions came to me and, say, asked that I report on something for them."

"I think that situation is a little more different," Candice said. "If they want a functional democracy, then they should want a functional press. Looking into Junia Stevens is part of that; you guys should be on the same team here. But if they told you to report on something, well, that'd make you a mouthpiece for the League, and they're trying to get away from that kind of thing."

"The comparison still stands," Zoey insisted. "It's more about the feeling of being used."

Candice frowned but hummed thoughtfully. "Well… if that's what you think…" she began slowly, "... then why not just give him a call and apologize? I know it's Paul, but he'd probably appreciate it, even if he won't say it."

Zoey stared at her a for a moment. Then, her lips quirked into a smile.

"You make everything so simple," she chuckled before rising to her feet. "You're right. I'll just apologize." Zoey made her way across the room to her phone. When she picked it up, however, she saw there was a message on her screen. Reading it, Zoey tensed up.

"What's the matter?" Candice asked.

"I… got a text from Lucas," Zoey replied.

"Your date from last night?" Candice raised an eyebrow. "What'd he say?"

Zoey slowly turned to face her, though her eyes were still on the screen. "'Junia Stevens wasn't in the Sinnoh League, and I can prove it,'" she read verbatim.

Candice blanched.

" _What_?!"

* * *

Within an hour, Lucas was outside the Pallet Town Inn dismounting his Dragonite—and that alone was enough to cause a bit of a stir within the small community. Neighbors were poking their heads through curtains and doors, a passerby stopped to gawk, and a few of the inn's guests even came out to watch too. Zoey quickly met Lucas there and, after he returned his Dragonite, she ushered him inside and out of the public's eye.

"Thanks for meeting me here," Zoey said as she led him up to her and Candice's room.

"No problem," Lucas said, rubbing his eyes. It appeared he hadn't gotten much sleep. "I wanted to be here, and Dragonite needed to stretch out anyway."

Zoey slid her card key through its slot and opened the door for herself and Lucas. Candice was waiting eagerly on the bed for them and jumped up when they came in.

"Hey!" she greeted. "Thanks for coming on such short notice. I'm Candice, by the way." She shook Lucas's hand as she spoke.

"Lucas," he said, a little taken aback by her animation. "Uh, thanks for letting me borrow your girlfriend last night. Oh, er, that didn't sound right. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah," Candice said hurriedly, plopping down on the bed again; she looked and sounded wholly unconcerned about the accidental insinuation. "So, what's the proof you've got?"

Lucas managed a small laugh; her candor put him more at ease. "You seem more excited about this than the journalist in the room," he remarked as he set his shoulder bag down and pulled out his laptop.

"Oh, she's just being professional," Candice dismissed, even as Zoey came to sit beside her. "I'm like her enthusiasm translator."

"Moving _on_ …" Zoey's tone pressed with a gentle force.

"Right, so—" Lucas set his laptop on the desk in front of them and started to boot it up. "You remember how I said I'm kind of a Sinnoh League fanatic?" The question was addressed to Zoey.

"Mhm?" she hummed.

"Well, I wasn't kidding," Lucas went on. "I seriously do know all about the Sinnoh League, and I've watched pretty much every conference since its inception. I have a complete set of DVDs all at home but—when you said Junia Stevens _had_ been in the '89 Lily of the Valley Conference, it just didn't sit well with me. So last night after I got home from the wedding, I was thinking more about it, and I decided to torrent the thing." He paused before adding, more dramatically, "I watched it all, Zoey, from beginning to end. She's not there."

"Why would her file say she was in the conference then?" Zoey asked.

"I dunno," Lucas said, shrugging. "I just know she's not there. Look, I'll show you—" He pulled up a folder full of video files divided into hour-long sections

"Well, maybe the dates got mixed up?" Candice suggested. "Maybe she wasn't in '89? I mean, how infallible is the G-Men's database?"

Zoey let out a frustrated sigh and pulled out her phone. "Well, let me bring up the file…" She went into her emails and found the attachments Charles Mook had sent her weeks earlier. She selected Junia's file and held it out for both Candice and Lucas to see:

Full Name: Junia E. Stevens — DOB: 1 March 1977 — Hometown: Floaroma Town

Registered Pokémon  
Bronzong  
Dustox (M)  
Girafarig (F)  
Golbat (F)  
Golduck (M)  
Rapidash (F)  
Skuntank (F)  
Weavile (M)

History  
Lily of the Valley Conference (1989)

Awards/Honors  
N/A

"... Well, that definitely says she was in the '89 conference," Lucas mumbled. He looked up at Zoey again, however, and forcefully added, "Still, that doesn't change the fact that there's no one named Junia Stevens in the video I watched."

"Maybe that's the thing," Candice suggested.

"What do you mean?" Zoey asked.

"Maybe there was no one _named_ Junia Stevens in the conference, but she was still there," Candice elaborated. "People change their names. Like, you know, Silver."

Zoey felt a shot of ice coarse through her blood, for she knew what would come next.

"Who's Silver?" Lucas inquired.

"Nevermind that," Zoey quickly dismissed. "Anyway, I guess if she did change her name, then we would just need to see if there's a trainer who uses the same Pokémon listed in her file."

"Oh! That's smart," Candice commended. She took possession of Zoey's phone and zoomed in on the file. "So… we'd be looking for a trainer who's got a Bronzong, Dustox, Girafarig…"

"Junia said she was in the quarterfinals, and up until now, I've had no reason not to believe her on that point," Zoey went on thoughtfully. "Any of those Pokémon sound familiar, Lucas?"

"Uh…" Lucas shut his eyes, thinking. When he opened them again, he reached for Zoey's phone. "Let me see that list again, please." He pulled it up close to his face, carefully scrolling through it. "... Yeah, actually. Hang on."

Lucas returned to his laptop and pulled up one of the later video files—part 16. Once it loaded, he pulled the progress bar about midway through before slowing down to skim a little more attentively. Then, he stopped and pressed "play."

" _To begin the next match, let us introduce the competing trainers!_ " Zoey could tell the video was definitely from the '80s based on the referee's uniform alone. She leaned closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing. " _On your left, we have Percy Layfette of Lumiose City, Kalos!_ "

A fiery red-headed teen strutted onto the field, waving at the cheering crowd. Definitely not Junia Stevens.

" _... And on your right, we have Eileen Kaiden of Floaroma Town!_ "

"That's Junia's hometown," Zoey said to her companions with a sharp breath.

The girl that proceeded onto the stage was young, clearly a newer trainer. The details of her person were a little tough to make out through the grain of the film, but Zoey could nevertheless distinguish her light brown hair and eyes. She wasn't a match there regarding Junia's burgundy hair and eyes.

"... The age is about right," Candice offered hopefully, likely having made the same internal observations as her girlfriend.

"People can easily change their hair and eye color with dye and contact lenses," Lucas also added.

"But why would they… ?" Zoey mumbled ponderously.

" _Trainers, the match will be a full 6-on-6 battle,_ " the ref went on. " _Exchanges are allowed. You may begin!_ "

Eileen enlarged a Poké Ball in her hand. " _Girafarig, come on out!_ "

"A Girafarig!" Zoey straightened up. That was one of Junia's Pokémon.

"Yup," Lucas said, nodding. "And there's more." He again clicked on the progress bar, pulling it forward, past Girafarig's battle with and subsequent loss to Percy's Vivillon. He stopped just as Eileen brought out her second Pokémon: a Rapidash.

Candice reached for Zoey's phone to check Junia's file. "That's a match, too," she declared. They kept going, skimming through the match until they saw all six of the Pokémon Eileen used: Girafarig, Rapidash, Golduck, Bronzong, Weavile, and Skuntank—all Pokémon that Junia Stevens happened to own.

"That's a wrap," Lucas said as Eileen's Skuntank went down, losing her the battle.

Candice let out half a laugh. "Well, either this Eileen girl and Junia Stevens are the same person, or there was one heckuva coincidence during the '89 Sinnoh League," she said.

"What was her full name again?" Zoey asked, looking to Lucas.

"Uh…" He pulled the progress bar back until the ref announced her name again: " _Eileen Kaiden_."

"Haven't heard of her," Zoey mused.

" _Yeah_ , 'cause now she's Junia Stevens," Candice said.

Zoey glowered at her then added, "The point isn't so much who she is now, but _why_ she became her. Why the name change?" Zoey already knew the answer—or, at least, she had a theory—but she wanted Candice to say it, so she knew she wasn't being utterly conspiratorial.

Candice thought for a moment. "Well… you suspect the G-Men might be conducting a criminal investigation right? Maybe she did something that would justify changing her name."

That was the ticket, and Zoey felt vindicated.

"Whoa, wait, _what_?!" Lucas sputtered out. "You think there's a criminal investigation into Junia Stevens?"

"It's a long story," Zoey said, pressing her hand to temple. She remembered Homa cautioning her not to say anything about the potential investigation, and maybe telling Candice was too much—but there wasn't anything she could do about it now. She then slowly dragged her hand down her face as another thought occurred to her.

"I… I need to call Paul," she decided. "He _needs_ to tell me."

"Paul as in Paul Rebolledo, the Sinnoh Champion?" Lucas inquired.

"Yeah," Zoey said as she retrieved her phone. "We had a bit of a spat last night at the wedding, but this is too important, regardless of whether we're friends or not."

Lucas looked like he had more questions—after all, Zoey hadn't told him about what happened between herself and Paul last night—but he had no opportunity to ask any as she dialed Paul's number and pressed the phone to her ear.

The phone rang once, twice. Candice and Lucas watched her eagerly.

Three, four times. Zoey drew in a slow, long breath. Paul might still be too mad to talk to her.

Five.

He picked up.

" _Yes, Zoey?_ " His voice was gruff.

"Paul!" Actually hearing him on the other end caught her off guard. "Uh…" It suddenly occurred to her that she had been so swept up in the adrenaline of her discovery that she hadn't considered what she was going to say to him.

She became acutely aware that Candice and Lucas were still watching her, which made the prospect of the whole impending conversation intolerable. So she stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

"Look…" Zoey started again. "I called because I wanted to apologize for last night. It was wrong of me to approach you as a friend. I should have approached you as a professional."

" _Okay… ?_ " Paul either wasn't impressed or didn't understand the point—or both.

"I wasn't talking to you to advance my own career or elevate the name of my newspaper," Zoey went on. "I did it because you and I both want the best for this country, and that means I _need_ to know if there's an investigation into Junia Stevens."

Paul made a disgusted noise that grew distant in volume; Zoey realized he was pulling away his phone.

"Don't—Don't hang up," Zoey said hurriedly. There was silence on the other end of the line. "... Are you still there?"

The silence extended for a moment longer. Zoey was about to concede he had left the call, and then his voice patched through: " _Yes_."

Zoey breathed a long, relieved sigh. She briefly clutched her phone to her chest then leaned against the wall. She raised the phone to her ear again.

"Okay…" she went on carefully. "Please understand, I need—no, the _people_ need—to know. They're entitled to know. They deserve to know who they're voting for, for the president of this country."

Paul said nothing.

"So, please, just—" Zoey was grasping for the right thing to say, the right thing to do. "—if—if there's not an investigation, just hang up. Just hang up, and I won't bother you anymore."

Paul still said nothing, and Zoey waited with bated breath.

"... You still there?" she repeated.

Another extended silence. Then: " _Yeah_ ," Paul grunted.

Zoey sucked in a sharp breath at the implications. "Okay, so—so there is an investigation?"

Paul made a noise that was a mix of a groan and a sigh.

" _Not—into Junia Stevens_ ," he said. He sounded as though he had to force himself to speak each word.

Zoey's head was spinning. "But there is one?" she asked almost excitedly. "Is it someone in Junia's Steven's circle?"

Paul again said nothing.

"Is it Jennifer Dey?" Zoey asked. "Hang up if it's not Jennifer Dey."

Paul was still silent, but Zoey could hear the faint sound of his breath on the other line. He was still there. She waited to see if he would drop the line or even scold her for bothering him, but nothing came. He just waited without a word, never ending the call.

Zoey started counting seconds. One… two… three…

Ten would be good right? If he hadn't hung up after ten seconds, that would be confirmation, right?

She hit ten but found herself still counting. Eleven… twelve…

Then, Paul's voice cut through

" _You got what you need?_ " he grumbled. " _Do you understand now?_ "

That was confirmation. Zoey let out an incredulous breath and smiled.

"Yes. Yes, I got what I need, and I understand. Thank you, Paul."

He grunted in response and finally hung up. Zoey pressed her phone to her forehead and vibrated with—excitement? Terror? Some kind of mix between the two. Jennifer Dey was under criminal investigation. The Sinnoh Champion, the head of the G-Men division in Sinnoh himself, had confirmed it. Zoey had always been suspicious, but she had also doubted herself—but her suppositions were justified. There was something odd happening in Junia Stevens's campaign, and she was _this_ much closer to figuring it out.

Having recollected herself, Zoey went back into the room. Candice and Lucas were huddled together on the bed, looking at something on the screen of Lucas's laptop.

"What's going on?" Zoey asked.

"We decided to look up Eileen Kaiden online," Lucas explained. "And, uh… we found her." He turned the laptop toward her. Zoey leaned close and saw an old article from _The Sinnoan Times_ was on the screen.

* * *

 **Sole Survivor of Family Slain in Home  
Invasion was Sinnoh League Competitor  
**Daniel Abner, Crime  
June 17, 1990

FLOAROMA TOWN, SINNOH—On the  
night of Thursday, May 31, James Dirk and  
Seth Mibbs allegedly broke into the Kaiden  
family household in search of valuables.

All three of the Kaidens present in the  
household—Allen and Jennifer Kaiden and  
their 6-year-old son—were murdered during  
the deadly robbery.

The family is survived by one person: the  
12-year-old daughter of the Kaidens, Eileen,  
who was traveling through Sinnoh with her  
Pokémon at the time of the murders.

Eileen was a quarterfinalist in the recent Lily  
of the Valley Conference.

* * *

Zoey didn't read on. She didn't need to.

"Holy shit…" she breathed.

"Yeah, it's bad," Candice said. "I'd change my name, too."

Zoey drew back in thought. "I wonder if I'm barking up the wrong tree with Junia Stevens," she said.

"What do you mean?" Candice asked. "What did Paul say?

Zoey wetted her lips. How much was too much to say? She trusted Candice—obviously—and she had no reason to _distrust_ Lucas, but what she had in her possession was confidential information on criminal activity associated with a now-major political campaign. She had to speak carefully.

"Junia Stevens, or Eileen Kaiden, or whatever her name is, may not be the real problem," she said. "But someone else in the campaign might be."

This shed no more light on the situation for either Lucas or Candice, judging by their expressions. Zoey turned away as she further considered how to proceed.

"I…" She was thinking out loud by then. "I think I need to call Marinda. I think I need to ask her about this."

Marinda had said point-blank that she didn't want anything to do with Jennifer Dey. Still, Zoey wondered if she hinted her awareness of a criminal investigation, Marinda might break—either out of animosity or out of fear.

"Marinda… ?" Lucas questioned.

"Ortiz," Zoey clarified for him as she started to dial her number. "She's in charge of Junia Stevens's communications."

Just as Zoey was about to tap to begin the call, she paused and looked toward Candice, whose eyes were wide with a look of… something. Zoey couldn't quite read her expression, but she was pricked with guilt regardless. Candice had flown all this way just to spend some time, just a few days, with her—and now, she was being drawn into a political mire. Zoey had wanted to avoid this exact situation.

"I'm sorry," Zoey found herself saying.

"No," Candice assured her with an insistent nod. "You have to do this. I understand."

Zoey nodded back to her slowly. Then she tapped her screen and lifted her phone to her ear. Marinda, ever-vigilant, picked up almost immediately.

" _What is it, Zoey?_ " Her attitude was as sour as ever.

"Hi, Marinda." Zoey's voice was friendly but curt. "I'd like to sit down somewhere to talk to you again—sooner rather than later."

" _What for?_ " Marinda half-demanded. " _I'm busy._ "

"I know, I understand," Zoey said hurriedly. "I just think my questions would be heard better in person than over the phone."

" _Then talk to me at the event in Pewter City tonight. Goodbye, Zoey._ "

"No, wait—" It was too late. Marinda has already hung up with a sharp "click." Zoey made a frustrated noise and dropped the phone to her side.

"Didn't go well, huh?" Candice asked with a frown.

"No," Zoey groaned.

"So what next?" Lucas asked.

Zoey drew in a long breath and cast a searching glance at Candice. Her expression was the same as before. Zoey closed her eyes and recentered herself.

She dialed Marinda's number again, knowing full well she would pick up—and yell at her.

" _I've said my peace, Williams,_ " Marinda snapped.

"I haven't," Zoey said with equal bite. "Marinda, we need to talk. It's important."

" _Arceus_ …" Marinda groaned.

"When can I meet you?" Zoey pressed further. "I'll even buy you a drink—or lunch—or whatever—to make it worth your while."

" _You can't just ask me now like every other reporter?_ " Marinda huffed.

"I need to see you in person," Zoey insisted. She needed her there, physically, to read her expressions, to observe her reactions—she needed her in a place where she couldn't just hang up to run away from a question.

Another dramatic huff from Marinda. Then, a pause.

"... _I'm available at 1,_ " she said bitterly. " _I can meet you at the Hard Rock Restaurant a block away from the Pewter City Gym._ "

Zoey's eyes darted to the digital clock on the nightstand. It was 11:26 a.m. The drive was at least two hours—if she was going above the speed limit.

"How about 2?" she suggested.

" _1:30, no later,_ " Marinda said firmly. Zoey supposed she had no choice.

"Okay," she agreed. "1:30."

" _And I can only stay for maybe 20 or 25 minutes, tops,_ " Marinda added.

"Fine." Zoey would take what she could get at that point.

Marinda hummed, sounding unimpressed over nothing in particular. " _Don't be late._ "

The moment Marinda hung up again, Zoey practically dove for her dresser to change into something that wasn't—well—sweats and a T-shirt if she was going to get Marinda to take her seriously at all in what would probably be one of their most serious conversations. Candice's back shot straight up in alarm.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Marinda agreed to meet me at 1:30," Zoey said.

"Hey, that's great!" Lucas exclaimed. "So why the ru—"

"In Pewter City," Zoey finished emphatically.

The "sh" on Lucas's lips transformed into an "o" shape.

Zoey tore off her T-shirt and pulled a maroon blouse over her camisole, all while kicking off her sweats and edging toward the wedding slacks that were folded over the back of the armchair. She didn't care if she was in a state of undress in front of Lucas, and she didn't particularly care if he cared either, though she doubted he did. With the change in wardrobe, she ran her fingers through her hair once, just to clean it up—and then froze. She turned and stared at Candice.

"I'm—so sorry," she repeated.

Candice smiled tiredly.

"It's fine," she said. "It's like I said: You have to do this."

Zoey bit her upper teeth into her lip, then strode toward Candice and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Next, she turned toward Lucas with purpose.

"Thank you, again, for coming out here," she said.

"Yeah, sure." Lucas nodded. "Good luck with, uh, talking to Marinda."

Zoey nodded to him, too, grabbed her laptop bag leaning against the side of her bed and the Poké Ball sitting atop her desk. She flew out the door, and on her way down the stairs, she picked up her phone again and dialed another number.

"Hey, Ritchie," Zoey said. "Sorry—I need to borrow your car again."

* * *

It occurred to Zoey just as she sped into the borders of Pewter City that she had no idea where the Hard Rock Restaurant was located. Marinda had said something vague about it being near the Pewter City Gym, but Zoey needed more information than that. At a red stop light, Zoey fumbled for her phone, pulled up her Maps app and clumsily typed in the name. The light turned green, and she promptly pushed the device into the cup holder, letting the GPS voice guide her way.

She kept her eye on the time. It was 1:32 p.m. Marinda's punctuality was hit-and-miss, but Zoey never liked to be late to anything—and if she was late to this, Marinda would never let her hear the end of it.

Zoey turned the corner and saw the sign for the Hard Rock Restaurant protruding from the vintage red-brick building. A parking space was open on the street side directly in front of the restaurant. Zoey was driving so fast that she nearly missed it, but she put her car into reverse and haphazardly pulled into the space behind her. The park job wasn't great, but she didn't care. She practically stumbled out her car door, stuffed a couple coins into the parking meter, and hurried in through the front doors.

"How many are in your party?" a hostess with bright red lipstick and a leather uniform asked pleasantly.

"None—I mean—" Zoey paused for only a brief moment to untie her tongue. "I'm here to meet someone. Marinda Ortiz?"

"Oh." The woman's amicable tone didn't change. "Yes, she's seated at the bar."

"Thank you." Zoey quickly hurried past her then to the back end of the restaurant. Sure enough, Zoey easily picked out the scarlett bob of hair from behind the line of barstools. Marinda was rigid in posture, almost uncomfortably so, with one leg crossed over the other. She was drinking—something—or more accurately, she was idly twirling the ice in the glass around with her straw.

Zoey took in a deep breath.

"Afternoon, Marinda," she said, sliding into the open seat beside her.

Marinda shot her a pointed look.

"You're late," she said bluntly.

"Barely," Zoey replied with a weary smile. "But I promised I'd make it worth your while. I'll cover your tab."

"Nothing to cover," Marinda said a little sharply. "I don't drink during the day." She gave a small gesture to her drink, which Zoey then discerned as nothing more than water garnished with a lemon.

"Right." Zoey leaned into the "t." "Well, I know you're short on time, so I'll get straight to the point."

Marinda folded her arms and looked at her expectantly.

With a click of her tongue, Zoey started with only a name: "Jennifer Dey."

Marinda's expression didn't break. She stared with continuing contempt for a while before she flicked her gaze toward the bartender. "You know, I've had a change of heart. I'll take a Gimlet, vodka instead of gin, please." He nodded to her and started to mix her drink. Marinda turned back to Zoey with burning eyes.

"What about her?" she asked sternly. "I've said before I don't want to talk about Jennifer Dey. I thought you would respect that."

"I do," Zoey said. "But it's why I called you. It's clear you don't like Jennifer Dey, so what I'm about to say will probably interest you."

"Mhm?" Marinda seemed no more intrigued.

"Jennifer Dey is under criminal investigation by the G-Men."

Marinda's face finally changed. Her eyes widened a little, and she drew in a silent but sharp breath. Zoey knew then that this was new to Marinda. She gave her a moment to process; the bartender pushed her Gimlet in front of her and left. Marinda clutched the glass tight in her hand before taking a generous drink. After she set it back on table, Marinda leaned toward Zoey and hissed in a low voice, "For what?"

"I don't know," Zoey admitted. "I wondered if you might know. There's a reason you don't want to talk about her. Is it really just because of a personality difference? Or do you know something criminal?"

"I know nothing," Marinda said quickly. A pause. "How do _you_ know about this?"

"I learned it from a source," Zoey said simply.

"Who?"

"I can't tell you that," Zoey answered, "but I can say it's someone who's very reliable, so I know Jennifer is under investigation just as well I know that the sky is blue."

Marinda let out a short breath and averted her gaze. Zoey waited for her to say something but soon realized she intended to say nothing.

"I was hoping you could tell me something for what I've told you," Zoey said. "I imagine it won't reflect well on Junia Steven's campaign when it comes out—and it _will_ come out—that one of her advisers is under investigation. Now would be the time to let her go before it gets ugly—you know, save your campaign some face."

"I told you already, I know nothing," Marinda muttered. "I don't have any power over Jennifer Dey, but I suppose I'll talk to Junia and Satchel."

Zoey tightened her lips. That wasn't what she wanted to hear. She didn't come to do Junia Stevens a favor; she came to get answers, or at least, information.

"Then maybe you'll know something about this," Zoey went on. Marinda's eyes carefully rose to meet Zoey's. "I know Junia Stevens isn't her real name. It's Eileen Kaiden. Her family was murdered when she was a young trainer, after she competed in the Sinnoh League."

Marinda's breath turned ragged.

"You—" The rest of the words died on Marinda's lips, and she looked around her to check whether anyone was listening. Suddenly, Zoey wondered if her initial impression was wrong and Marinda knew a lot more than she was letting on.

Marinda leaned confidentially toward Zoey. Her tone was severe, but her voice shook a little as she spoke. "Look, Zoey. You're getting into things you shouldn't," she warned. "And despite whatever I've said and done, I actually like you a little, so believe me when I say—for your own good, stop. Stop this, stop here."

"What?!" Zoey drew back in surprise.

"Sh—!" Marinda pulled her close again. "Listen. You shouldn't come to the Pewter event tonight. In fact, you should ask your editor to pull you off the beat. Go home. Continue covering your contests and leave this alone."

"I can't do that, Marinda," Zoey said, bewildered. "You know that."

"Then I can't protect you from whatever happens next," Marinda panted. She started to grab her things to leave, though her drink was unfinished.

"What are you even _saying_?" Zoey's voice began to rise. "What are you protecting Junia from? Why did she change her name?"

Marinda shushed her again. "Look—just—" She hastily ran her fingers through her hair. "Junia needed a change in her life. She needed to get away, and she did—she got herself a fresh start, a new beginning." Junia Stevens's rhetoric about giving Napaj a "fresh start" and her campaign slogan—"Creating a better world"—flickered across Zoey's mind. "Don't ruin that for her. Don't ruin that for us. And stay away from Jennifer if you know what's good for you."

"Marinda—" Zoey had never seen her like this. Despite her plea, Marinda hurried out of the restaurant. Zoey made a motion to pursue her but hastily decided against it. She called the bartender back over to pay for Marinda's drink, then retreated to the back of the restaurant and entered the one-person bathroom.

There, she called Homa.

" _You know, you made it pretty clear you didn't want me calling you while you were taking time off, and yet, you're the one always calling me,_ " Homa dryly teased.

"Yeah, I've been working," Zoey said.

" _Zoey, the wedding's over._ "

"Paul didn't tell me anything at the wedding, but I did get him to talk to me today," Zoey said. "Homa, I've learned a lot in the past few hours. I hope you're sitting down."

Homa's tone changed. " _Okay, I'm listening,_ " she said more seriously.

Zoey recounted everything to her, from Lucas's text message, to the torrent of the 1989 Sinnoh League, to her second conversation with Paul, to her meeting with Marinda. Homa listened carefully and only occasionally interjected a question or two until Zoey finished. When she was done, Homa sucked in her breath.

" _Well… okay_ ," she said. " _Tell me: What do you want to do?_ "

Zoey didn't hesitate. "I want to go tonight," she said.

" _What are you going to do?"_ Homa asked. " _Who are you going to talk to? What are you going to say?"_

"What all these sudden questions?" Zoey asked with an exasperated chuckle.

" _Because Marinda, frankly, issued you a threat_ ," Homa answered, " _and now I need to look out for your safety, regardless of what the story is. Neither you nor I know what that campaign is hiding, but it's serious, and you're getting close—and I don't know what's going to happen to you when you get that close_."

"So do you think I shouldn't go?" Zoey asked incredulously.

" _I'm not_ ," Homa corrected. " _I just hope you know what you're getting into_."

Zoey was sobered. "I do," she said. After a moment, she added, wryly, "I mean, I was the one who said I wanted to cover something meaningful. I suppose I should've be careful about what I wished for."

Homa managed a chuckle at that.

" _Well, you're still technically off, and Jeremy's still covering for you_ ," Homa went on. " _Would you like to call him or should I?_ "

"I'll call him."

" _Okay_ ," Homa agreed. " _Zoey—you be careful tonight_."

"I will," Zoey promised. When she hung up, she felt at liberty to leave the privacy of the bathroom and exit the restaurant. Once she was back on the street, she checked the time on her meter and, satisfied, found Jeremy in her contacts to call him up.

" _Well, hello Ms. Williams,_ " Jeremy greeted cheerfully. " _What can I do for you?_ "

"Hey, Jeremy," Zoey said, finding herself smiling. "Two things: First, I wanted to say thanks for stepping in for me. Second, I actually am relieving you tonight because I'm in Pewter City, and I'm going to the event."

" _Oh, did that Sinnoan Times reporter get to you?_ "

"What?" Zoey was suddenly confused, unsure of what he meant.

" _There was a reporter from The Sinnoan Times who really wanted to talk to you last night and was upset you weren't around. Skeeter? Skelling?_ "

"Skelley?" Zoey inquired.

" _Yeah, that was it_."

"What did Ciara want with me?"

" _Uh, she actually wanted me to pass along a message. I was planning on telling you before you came back Wednesday, but you called today, so… hang on, she wrote it down somewhere_." Zoey heard the shuffle of papers and other items on the other end of the line. " _Here it is: She just wrote, 'GAG = Galactic Advocacy Group.' Dunno if that means anything to you, but she said it would._ "

"GAG?" Zoey repeated. "Yeah, that was the name of the group Junia and some of her associates were involved in during college. I gave her a tip on it for…" Zoey suddenly stopped. "What did you say it stood for again?"

" _Galactic Advocacy Group,_ " Jeremy said.

Zoey's breath shortened.

"Right. Uh, okay. Thanks Jeremy. I'll talk to you later."

" _Wh_ —"

Zoey hung up before he could finish. She ripped her wallet out of her laptop bag, dug around for another coin, and slid it into her meter. She then promptly turned and headed back into the Hard Rock Restaurant. At the bar, she pulled out her laptop and booted it up.

GAG. It stood for nothing—that was what Marinda had told her. GAG, as in a "gag" on STEM research. But Ciara had found something else, something—

 _Galactic_ Advocacy Group. In 2001, a Team _Galactic_ airship crashed into Lake Valor. There had supposedly been only one survivor, a male grunt. _Supposedly_ only one, _supposedly_ —and Jennifer Dey's scar—

Suddenly, Junia Stevens's campaign slogan made a lot more sense.


	10. PEWTER CITY, KANTO

Zoey called Candice to tell her she wouldn't be back at the room until much later—and apologized a million times over for it.

" _What happened out there?_ " Candice had asked. The alarm was evident in her voice, and Zoey had no desire to fan her girlfriend's sense of foreboding—especially since her fears would be well-justified. " _What did Marinda say?_ "

"A lot, too much to explain over the phone," Zoey said vaguely. "I just need to go to this event tonight. And hopefully, it'll all be over after then."

" _Well… okay…_ " Candice said. " _Just—stay safe, all right?_ "

Candice's personal intuition would always amaze her. Zoey let out a slow breath.

"I'll be fine," she promised. "I love you."

" _I love you, too,_ " Candice said. " _I'll see you later._ "

With a couple more dollars in the form of change repeatedly crammed into her parking meter, Zoey stayed in the Hard Rock Café well into the late afternoon. She remained at the bar with her laptop, sinking deeper and deeper into a pool of certain damnation—whether it be hers or someone else's. Someone like Junia Stevens, whom Zoey had discovered that morning was not at all who she said she was. And neither was anyone surrounding her, for that matter.

The time came. Zoey packed up her items and headed back into the bathroom. She hadn't had the chance to put on any make-up before she left Pallet Town that morning, and she didn't have any in her laptop bag—so she just ran the faucet and splashed some water on her face to clear it up. Her face still dripping, Zoey's head rose to look at her reflection in the mirror, and she steeled herself.

She picked up her cell phone to make her last phone call of the evening.

" _What do you want now?_ " the voice on the other line grunted when it picked up.

"Paul, I'm sorry to call again," Zoey said. "I have another question for you."

Paul made an exasperated noise but didn't hang up.

"That hack into the G-Men's database several months ago—did the G-Men ever conclude who did it and what the purpose of it was?" she asked.

" _It's still not known who did it,_ " Paul said. Zoey was almost surprised he answered so easily; she half-expected she would need to pry an answer out of him like she had about the investigation into Jennifer Dey. The difference, she supposed, was the one was public knowledge and the other wasn't—yet. " _But the idea is that data miners may have been seeking information they could sell to election campaigns._ "

"That's the _idea_ though?" Zoey repeated with emphasis. "It's not confirmed?"

" _No… ?_ " Paul obviously wasn't clear on where this was going, and his patience sounded like it was thinning. " _It's not._ "

Zoey sucked in her breath.

"Okay. One more question," Zoey said. "Is it possible, then, that someone could have hacked the database to plant data rather than extract it?"

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Could someone have put data there rather than taken it out?" Zoey rephrased.

" _What's this even about?_ "

"Just please answer the question."

Paul was silent for a moment longer, apparently thinking.

" _I suppose it's possible_ ," he begrudgingly admitted. " _But_ _why—_ "

"—Thank you," Zoey said hurriedly before ending the call.

She drove herself downtown in Ritchie's car to the Grand Pewter, the location of the event. It was supposed to be another one of those lavish fundraisers in a fancy hotel ballroom; Zoey didn't really know much about it because she hadn't planned to attend until only hours before and because she'd been busy researching other matters.

What she _did_ know was that she was criminally underdressed (that was the phrase she used in her own head, and she had to laugh at her own ironic use of "criminally.") She didn't have four additional hours to make the trip to Pallet and back for attire more befitting of a black-tie event, but she also didn't particularly care. She wasn't there to blend in; she wasn't there to be gracious. She was there for Jennifer Dey—and _everyone_ else.

Except maybe Ciara Skelley, who was the first person who greeted her when she walked into the ballroom.

"Where have you _been_?" Ciara grabbed Zoey by the shoulders with a heated desperation. "I've been wanting to talk to you for _days_." She stopped briefly and wrinkled her nose with a scowl. "And what are you wearing?"

The difference in their outfits was stark with Ciara's black evening gown and dark red lipstick versus the semi-professional casual wear Zoey had managed to throw on that morning before she flew out the door to meet Marinda. But Zoey didn't care, and so she wrenched Ciara off of her.

"I've been on a vacation of sorts," Zoey said. "I'd still be on it if it wasn't for what I learned today."

"Did you get my message from that Jeremy then?" Ciara asked.

"Yes," Zoey said. "But it's more than that."

"What? What do you know?" Ciara half-demanded. Zoey bit her lip and glanced aside, and Ciara snapped, "I told you what I found out about GAG. You owe me."

She had a point. Zoey let out a long breath and made direct eye contact again. She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped herself. She grabbed Ciara by the arm and dragged her behind a marble pillar near a lonely corner of the ballroom.

"Junia Stevens's real name is Eileen Kaiden," Zoey shared.

"What?" Ciara seemed caught off guard. "That's not what I heard. Her name in GAG was—"

"Sh—!" Zoey hushed her as several very wealthy-looking donors walked by. The two women watched the group guardedly until they were well out of earshot. Zoey then looked back at Ciara, continuing, "Junia Stevens wears several hats."

"Marinda and Satchel aren't who they say either," Ciara went on.

"I know," Zoey said. "I've been looking into this all afternoon."

"So is there anything else you know?" Ciara asked. "Like, I made use of your information about GAG—did you find anything out about Jennifer Dey?"

"I did, actually," Zoey admitted. "She's under criminal investigation. I'm not sure for what, but I have an inkling. You mentioned an airship accident, and if you're right about GAG, I think she might have been involved in a Team Galactic airship crashing into Lake Valor in 2001."

"Shit," Ciara breathed in awe.

"Where did you even get that info about GAG?" Zoey asked.

"I can't reveal my source, and you should know that," Ciara practically chastised. Zoey felt and looked unsatisfied with this response, and Ciara pressed, "Zoey, do you trust me as a credible journalist or not?"

It was a sharp question, and it rattled Zoey a little. Ciara had seen through her prejudice and was now calling her out on it. Zoey first met Ciara as a tabloid gossip writer for _Coordinators Weekly_ , and she suddenly realized she had never truly made an effort to see her as anything more than that—even though Ciara had proved everything to the contrary over the past six months.

"I do," Zoey said.

Ciara nodded slowly. Then, she added, "I will say it is a source that can be trusted. An agent from inside the G-Men." A pause. "And you? How'd you find out about the investigation into Dey?"

"... Also from someone in the G-Men. Reliable," Zoey said. She knew they weren't talking about the same person, but she also knew there was no way either of them would ever be able to guess who they meant—and maybe it was better that way.

They let these revelations sink in. Soon, Ciara cleared her throat.

"... So what do we do now?" she asked. "Call the G-Men and tell them what we know?"

Zoey thought of Leaf, pregnant with a mercenary determination to protect the perceptions of a principled election; she thought of Paul, her source, nearly silent and resistant to her questions of secrecy; she thought of Iris, who kept her hands wiped clean of any G-Men controversy; she thought of Max, breaking precedent and remaining loyal to it at the same time; she thought of Ash, who would follow the lead of his friends in the solid belief that they wouldn't lead him—that they wouldn't lead their country—astray.

"No." Zoey was firm. "They'll bury it. They'll try to make it quietly disappear. We can't let that happen."

Ciara raised an eyebrow.

"It was a facetious question," she said. "Duh, we're not going to the G-Men. I appreciate your gumption, though." She glanced toward the main floor, and Zoey followed suit; they had their eyes on Marinda and Satchel, who were together, talking up one of the donors that had strolled by earlier.

"But we need _some_ kind of plan," Ciara remarked under her breath. It finally dawned on Zoey that this was now a collaboration, not a competition. This had been Ciara's endgame for a while, and surprisingly, Zoey found herself okay with it. Ciara continued, "What were you planning to do before I caught you?"

"I was going to talk to Jennifer Dey," Zoey answered.

"How, exactly?"

"I was going to be a little more forceful in making my way backstage," Zoey said lightly. "I don't particularly care if these people don't want to talk with me or the _Hearthome Chronicle_ ever again after tonight, especially if we get what we need."

"And what do we need?" Ciara questioned. "We have the confirmation of two G-Men agents, whom we both insist are reliable, and it sounds like we've pretty much put the story together ourselves. What do we need to talk to Junia and her crew for? We could get out of here and write the story now."

"No." Zoey shook her head. "I want to hear it from them, too. We can't be wrong about this."

Ciara pressed her lips together but soon nodded, agreeing. "Okay," she said, "but you're gonna stick out like a sore thumb dressed the way you are trying to get backstage."

Zoey looked down at herself. Her slacks were a little wrinkled and loose from being worn all day today and yesterday, and the blouse she'd happened to force over her head that morning was a little dingy from a few too many washes over the several months she'd been traveling across the regions.

"... Yeah," Zoey conceded, "and it probably doesn't help that Marinda knows I'm onto them, and she straight-up told me to stay away."

"Arceus, Zoey, you're just asking for trouble," Ciara sighed. "Is this the kind of thing that landed you in jail with those protestors?"

"Something like that," Zoey mumbled. "Look, I'm not asking you to do this with me, but I will ask for your help. Does Marinda or anyone else suspect you know anything they think you shouldn't?"

"No, because unlike you, I conduct myself with a little more tact," Ciara said.

Zoey wasn't even going to point out the hypocrisy. She didn't need to fight with Ciara then.

"Okay, good," Zoey said, a little strained. "Then if you can keep Marinda and Satchel busy, I, a _poor_ lost hotel guest, can make my way backstage." She brought out the best thespian ache in her voice at the end of that statement.

Ciara hummed and glanced aside, thinking again. When her eyes returned to Zoey's, she said, "Fine. But first—"

She brazenly reached into Zoey's front pocket and pulled out her phone.

"—Hey," Zoey started, irritated, but Ciara held her own phone out to Zoey before she could complete her protest.

"You're heading into a Pyroar's den," Ciara said bluntly, "and you need to keep yourself safe. I'll keep your phone; text me with mine if you run into trouble."

Zoey could hardly understand why she had to be so dramatic about it; they could have just exchanged numbers. But she threw up her hands a little and gave in. "All right. I will."

Ciara carefully slid Zoey's phone into her purse, and in exchange, pulled out a compact. She flicked it open, checking her face, then gave Zoey a pointed smile. She deposited the compact back into her purse, too, and sashayed over to Marinda and Satchel, who had just finished up with the donor. She maneuvered herself so she stood behind them when she got their attention—so they turned around, and Zoey had an opening.

Zoey made her move, quickly and stealthily, across the ballroom. She made a bee-line for a door that looked like it led to behind the elaborate stage that had been set up. Zoey grabbed at the handle—it was locked.

"Uh, ma'am?" With a sharp breath, Zoey spun around to see a younger man—possibly still a teenager—looking at her. She could tell by his badge he was on the campaign staff. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," Zoey said. "I'm staying at this hotel, and I, uh, made the mistake of taking a different entrance, so I ended up here. I'm just trying to get back to my room. It looked like this door led back into the main hotel, maybe."

"Oh! I see," the staffer. "Well, um, that's actually a staff-only area for this current event… but… there is a door through here that goes down to the main lobby. I could let you in if you just cross over there."

"Yes! Thank you so much," Zoey said, clasping her hands together.

The staffer fumbled for his keys and let her in.

"Thank you, again," Zoey said. The staffer nodded at her with a crooked smile and closed the door.

Zoey promptly let out a long, relieved sigh and leaned back against the door. She wasn't sure how she got so lucky. The combination of her being underdressed and running into a random, low-level staffer had gotten her backstage. And now, to find Jennifer.

She pushed herself forward, moving past the door across the room that would lead to the main hotel. The area was largely empty, and the lighting was eerily dim. For a moment, Zoey worried that she had made a misjudgement and no one of importance would be back here. Until—

"Zoey?"

Zoey stopped breathing. She slowly turned on her heel to come face-to-face with Junia Stevens.

"What are you doing back here?" Junia continued. On the surface, her voice had its usual warm, deep quality—but Zoey could detect the undercurrents of suspicion.

"I—" Zoey stopped short and shut her mouth. Suddenly, she felt paralyzed. She didn't know how she would react, confronting Junia knowing what she knew now, but she didn't expect this—an abrupt surge of dread, of fear. She didn't know what to say, how to respond to Junia's question, without giving all of herself—all of what she had learned—away.

Junia pressed her lips together and sighed, apparently taking Zoey's silence in stride.

"Marinda said you had figured out some things about me," she plainly stated, "and I imagine you have some questions."

Zoey found her voice again.

"Yes," she said. She felt the outline of Ciara's phone in her pocket, and she realized she would need it.

Zoey had wanted Jennifer Dey. She was, after all, at the center of a G-Men investigation. But at that moment, Zoey realized that in the end, the only person who truly mattered in any of this was Junia Stevens—the person who could be their first president, regardless of Marinda's warnings, regardless of Satchel's true identity, regardless of Jennifer's past. Junia was at the center of everything.

Junia offered a strange smile.

"I was Eileen Kaiden," she admitted. "But after my family died… I needed a change in my life. I needed to get away from all of it. So I became a new person and found a new family."

"In GAG?" Zoey asked.

Junia nodded.

"Why keep it a secret, though?" Zoey asked. "You would gain the sympathy of so many voters if they knew where you came from, what you've been through."

Junia offered a little shrug. "It was so painful—it still is," she said. "I didn't want to bring it up. I don't want pity votes. I want people to vote for me because I want them to have the same opportunity I had for a rebirth—for the world to have that opportunity." She paused. "I hope you understand why I ask that you don't publish my former identity."

Zoey took in a deep breath, girding her nerve.

"I would," she said. "I would _if_ it were just that. But it's not." Junia stared through her. Zoey continued, "You told me that there was someone who inspired you to join GAG when you were younger, someone who took you in after you lost your family. You said you couldn't remember his name. I think you were lying, but just in case, let me jog your memory: Sean Cyrus."

Junia inhaled sharply, audibly.

Every word Zoey added thereafter was carefully spoken, quietly spoken. "Am I wrong… Jupiter?" she asked.

Junia—Jupiter—said nothing. The "o" shape in her mouth thinned into a hard line. Zoey did not relent, however. She held her gaze, waiting, waiting for a response.

She would wait longer than she anticipated.

"Mars was right," a voice that was deeper and far less mystic than Junia's spoke. Zoey felt her breath hitch. "She does know too much."

Without even turning around, Zoey knew who it was. The shadow of Jennifer Dey loomed over her and then shrunk as she rounded Zoey and stood between her and Junia Stevens. Zoey did not let this phase her.

"I know who you are, too," she said in as a matter-of-fact manner as she could manage. "You're the infamous Hunter J."

Jennifer remained expressionless, but Junia's face gave it all away. Regardless, Jennifer curtly replied, "You're smart, Ms. Williams, but not that smart. Hunter J died in a Team Galactic airship accident a decade ago."

"Maybe the persona did, but the person hasn't," Zoey persisted, her voice unwavering. "She's standing before me right now. Marinda told me you were hired because you had a special skill set nobody else had. Those skills wouldn't happen to involve infiltrating the G-Men's database and concocting some new identities for a few former Team Galactic commanders, would it?"

"Junia—!" Satchel's voice echoed through the room. "Junia, where are you? We've been waiting for you out th—" Satchel suddenly appeared with Marinda in tow, and he froze upon the scene. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Saturn," Zoey said pointedly before darting her gaze back toward Jennifer and Junia. "Just finishing up a few questions." Addressing Jennifer specifically, then, she said, "What are you doing helping Junia and her posse anyway? I've read into you and your dealings. There's no way you believe in Team Galactic's crazy plans."

Junia, Satchel, and Marinda were all tense, but Jennifer still seemed at ease.

"True," Jennifer said, and Zoey developed the sense that she was speaking a little more freely now—what was the sense in hiding it? "But Cyrus paid very well for my work ten years ago. And though Ms. Stevens and her crew were paroled several years ago, my services were again requested when the election was announced, and I ensured their criminal indiscretions were erased."

"Shut your mouth, J," Marinda suddenly snarled. "You're saying too much."

Jennifer was disaffected.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a casual look over her shoulder. "Ms. Williams may think she's walking out of here with her story—oh, but she's not."

A threat. Zoey became acutely aware that she was outnumbered four to one, and she took a step back, putting some more distance between herself and Jennifer. She felt for Ciara's phone again as her heart rate accelerated

Junia finally stepped in. "I want nothing to do with this," she announced.

Jennifer whirled on her. "You don't have a choice at this point," she hissed with more venom than anything she had said throughout the whole conversation. "You ran your mouth in your interview, and now she knows. She's figured it out. Marinda warned you, Satchel warned you, _I_ warned you—"

While they fought, Zoey tilted the screen of the phone in her pocket, turned it on, closed the app that was running, and began to type a message.

"—We ran this campaign to make a better world," Satchel defensively interjected. "Team Galactic has never condoned murder."

"You stupid bastard, people are going to die anyway if you get what you want and Junia is elected!" Jennifer's voice rose. "Your 'moral' justifications don't change that."

"Back off," Marinda warned, physically pushing away Jennifer despite the towering height difference.

All eyes were off Zoey then, and she took this as her opportunity. She bolted for the door to the main hotel lobby. Her hand was just extending to the knob when—

Zoey had to skid to a halt because her path was suddenly blocked by an enormous Salamence. The Dragon bared its teeth and emitted a terrible, guttural growl, causing Zoey to back up several steps in fear. She abruptly turned her head back toward Jennifer, whose eyes were locked on her.

"Do you honestly believe that I stopped watching you?" J questioned. It sounded like should have been a laugh, a cruel, cold laugh, but there was nothing—she could not manage even that.

Zoey gritted her teeth. Jennifer flicked her eyes back toward Marinda, Satchel, and Junia. "This will be my last night in your service. I will still expect my final paycheck forwarded to my account."

Junia started to shake her head. "J—" she started, her voice shaking.

"We'll see that it's done," Satchel interjected with finality. A single hand rose to Junia's back. "Come on. You're expected."

He led her out the door back into the ballroom, where the adoring applause of her political and financial supporters awaited her. Only Marinda lingered behind for a moment longer. She caught Zoey's eye and gazed at her with a look of… some sort of mix between indignation and regret. No words were exchanged, but Zoey could see what she wanted to say all over her face.

 _I told you._

Marinda walked out, and Zoey and Jennifer were alone. Zoey briefly looked at the door to the ballroom, considering it—but she felt Jennifer's gaze burning into her. She suspected that now that Junia and the others weren't around to dither about the morality of murder with Jennifer, trying to run again would end poorly. So Zoey decided to stall.

"How'd you even survive the airship accident anyway?" she asked. "I read reports that only one person survived, and it wasn't you."

"I imagine you also read reports that not all the bodies were recovered," Jennifer said. Zoey shut her mouth again, and Jennifer managed a smirk. "There's always a missing piece, isn't there? Frustrating for a reporter, I know. It's why you came back here despite everything against you."

"That didn't answer my question."

"I have ways of making myself vanish."

Zoey thought of Jennifer Dey's file conspicuously missing from the G-Men's database. Still, she said, "If that were true, the G-Men wouldn't be onto you."

"A fair point, but I've been off their radar for this long, haven't I?" Jennifer made a slight gesture with her hand as emphasis. "It's no concern. I'll disappear again after we're done here. Thank you, by the way, for the heads up. I wasn't aware the G-Men were looking into me until Marinda told me this afternoon."

Zoey tried not to let that phase her. Something in her doubted that was true; this was her first full conversation with Jennifer, and she had the sense the former hunter had probably known about the G-Men's efforts for a while. This was just a game, something J was doing to throw Zoey off.

Jennifer started to circle to the other side of Zoey.

"For your kindness, I'll repay you with a slight mercy," Jennifer said. "I'll let you choose how you want to die—or rather, I'll let you choose how everyone will _think_ you died. Suicide? Wild Pokémon? Infrastructure accident? I'm very good at my job. I've had a lot of different experiences over the past 15 years, and I could make it seem you died of an unfortunate cause."

Zoey thought for a moment.

"To be honest," she hummed, "I think… I'd rather go out in a bang."

In one rapid motion, she seized Glameow's Poké Ball from her waist. "Fake Out!" she cried as Glameow emerged and Jennifer's Salamence propelled itself toward them. But with a clap of Glameow's paws, Salamence flinched, and a window opened.

"Glameow, come!" Zoey dove beneath Salamence, grabbed for the door knob, flung it open, and fled with her Glameow in tow. Salamence roared in response, and Jennifer yelled after them. Salamence burst through the door, breaking down the wall, and Zoey whirled on her heel.

"Thunder!" she ordered.

"Hyper Beam!" Jennifer called back.

Zoey didn't stick around to see the impact of the colliding forces. She called for Glameow to follow her again, and they bolted. Zoey's mind was racing: Jennifer wanted her dead, but she wanted it done discreetly, and in that regard, Jennifer was already at a disadvantage since they had managed to make quite a scene that would soon call onlookers to them. Then Jennifer couldn't so easily cover up her death and disappear. In the meantime, if she could just get into the view of a security camera—

Zoey came to a sudden halt. Glameow ran a few feet ahead of her before digging her claws into the carpet to stop herself, too. She looked wildly back at her trainer and mewled in confusion. All at once, it had occurred to Zoey that Jennifer didn't really give a shit whether she was alive or not. Sure, maybe it was more convenient, and yes, her being alive and reporting on Junia Stevens's past would effectively end the campaign, but Jennifer was never invested in any of that. She planned to disappear regardless. And it was then that Zoey realized she wasn't being followed.

She had everything she needed. She had everything she wanted. She and Ciara could write the story no problem. But still, she turned around and headed back because there was—something—that compelled her to do it. She didn't want to let her get away with it; she _wouldn't_ let her get away with it.

Zoey and Glameow dashed past the wreckage of charred or burning debris and dangling electrical wires. Through the thin wisps of smoke, she saw Jennifer, sans her Salamence, making her surreptitious escape. Zoey thrust her hand forward and commanded, "Glameow, use Shadow Claw on that pillar!"

Glameow bounded ahead and struck the decorative pillar, causing it to fall ahead of Jennifer and block her path. Jennifer stopped, but she clicked her heels together and made a full turn toward Zoey, looking at her with an aggressive impatience.

"Really?" she said, unimpressed. "Do you _want_ to die? I thought it was actually quite nice I was letting you run."

"Not at the cost of my dignity," Zoey answered with near-nonchalance. Jennifer sneered.

"Fine." She reached for her Salamence's Poké Ball. "I suppose we can do this the _hard_ wa—"

"Victreebel, Vine Whip!"

Before Jennifer could call forth the sheer terror of her Salamence again, both of her wrists were imprisoned by the thick tendrils of a Victreebel's vines, and Jennifer was incapacitated. She screeched angrily, and Zoey spun around to see Ciara on her heels.

"You just _had_ to be a hero, didn't you?" she scoffed. Zoey didn't think she'd ever be glad to see Ciara Skelley, but she was. "I got your message," Ciara added, holding up Zoey's phone. Zoey let out a long breath in response.

"Thank you," she breathed.

"You weren't alone?!" Jennifer hissed at Zoey, still pulling against Victreebel's vines.

"For a renowned mercenary, I would've expected a lot more," Ciara taunted. "Don't bother struggling. The G-Men have been contacted, and the local police were dispatched and have set a perimeter around the building."

The color drained from Jennifer's face, highlighting the crevices within her scar—and she withered. She had been defeated. But Zoey was too busy looking at Ciara in disbelief to notice.

"You called the G-Men?" Zoey repeated.

"Paul Rebolledo was your last contact, so it wasn't hard," Ciara answered with a wry shrug. She grasped and turned Zoey's hand over, laying her phone in it. Ciara then held her own hand out expectantly. "Now—what did you get? I assume you got _something_ , given you wanted to talk to them so bad."

A freeing realization skimmed up Zoey's spine, and she out a breath. She turned over Ciara's phone back to her. "I got most of my conversation with Jennifer, Junia, Marinda, and Satchel recorded."

Ciara offered no praise, but her smile widened. She took her phone and slid it carefully into the top half of her dress, hiding it from view.

"And the G-Men don't have to know," she said.

* * *

After the ordeal, Zoey called Candice first. She didn't pick up. The lack of a response worried Zoey—Candice _always_ picked up—but after two additional attempts that went straight to voicemail, she came to the discouraging conclusion that she wouldn't pick up at all. Her thoughts immediately went to their last conversation and how it had ended, and whether Candice was mad, and whether she was ignoring her, and whether she was—

Zoey knew she couldn't spiral. Not then, when there was still so much work to be done. She called Homa second. She picked up on the first dial.

" _Arceus, Zoey, I was wondering when you were going to call_ ," was Homa's immediate response.

Zoey furrowed her brows in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

" _Do you not see the news vans there?_ "

Zoey perked up and raised her gaze. She was sitting alone outside a curb near the hotel. Well, as alone as she could be. Police swarmed the area, curious onlookers were wandering around, and reporters and cameramen were interviewing bewildered eventgoers and donors. Zoey realized she was one of the few people sitting out the action.

"I guess I didn't realize you were watching," Zoey said.

" _Of course I was. I knew something was going to happen tonight when you told me about what Paul said, so I turned on PNN. I'm glad your safe. That little explosion didn't have anything to do with you, did it?_ "

"Maybe."

" _Zoey…_ "

"Jennifer Dey was going to kill me—I had to defend myself somehow." The way she said it was so casual, and only when the words tumbled out of her mouth did Zoey realize how absurd her untroubled tone was.

It apparently took Homa a moment to unpack all that. She was silent at first, and then came a sharp and alarmed, " _What?!_ "

"Okay," Zoey nervously laughed. "That didn't come out well. It's a long story, but I'm fine now. I'm not even hurt. Just a little shaken, I guess."

" _You're aging me, Williams._ "

"It was your choice to send me out here," Zoey said with a shrug in her voice.

" _It was_ ," Homa conceded. A pause. " _So I'm guessing Jennifer Dey was the one apprehended then? PNN doesn't know._ "

Zoey blinked. "The _one_?" she repeated as if she had misheard her.

" _PNN is reporting that only one person was arrested,_ " Homa elaborated.

Zoey said nothing for a moment. Her breathing slowed, then quickened. One? How could there be only one? Was it a reporting error? Was it—?

" _So tell me what happened,_ " Homa interrupted Zoey's winding thoughts, bringing her building mental frenzy to an abrupt end. Zoey wetted her lips and tried to refocus.

"Well, uh—" Zoey stumbled through her words. "I ran into Ciara Skelley—the, uh, _Sinnoan Times_ reporter—and she and I, she and I…" Zoey was on her feet by then, looking around.

" _Is everything okay?_ ' Homa asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I—I'm fine," Zoey insisted. "Anyway, Ciara and I—we pooled some information together and—we're going to write the story together, sorry I didn't run that by you—"

" _Is that what you're so mixed-up about?_ " Homa asked. " _We've done collaborations with the Times before._ "

"No, I—" Zoey stopped again, still searching the crowd.

Homa must have sensed—correctly—that Zoey didn't want to talk to her then, for she added, " _Why don't you call me back when you're feeling better? In the meantime, I'll reach out to Alanis Rubio, The Sinnoan Times editor, and see about smoothing out the logistics for a collab between you and Ciara_."

Zoey finally spotted whom she was looking for: Ciara herself. They had separated in the chaos following Jennifer's arrest, having only spoken last when Ciara concealed her own phone—and the recording on it.

"Thank you, Homa," Zoey said before hanging up. She then immediately called out Ciara's name. When the other reporter turned around, Zoey jogged toward her.

"What is it?" Ciara asked with a hint of what almost sounded like concern.

"Junia, Marinda, Satchel—they weren't arrested?" Zoey asked.

Any genuine care Ciara felt, however small, must have instantly evaporated. She gave Zoey an odd look, saying, "Of course they weren't. You and I are the only ones who know about the real Junia Stevens—and they knew they were in trouble the moment you showed up looking for Jennifer. They bounced as soon as there was that backstage explosion."

A boiling anger bubbled up in Zoey's chest as if a stove's dial had been turned all the way around. How could they get away? How could _Ciara_ let them get away? She knew who they were; she knew what they had done. How could—

"Don't give me that look," Ciara scolded her before Zoey could say a word. Apparently, her expression had betrayed her ire. "What was I supposed to do? Tell the G-Men? You and I agreed we couldn't do that. Play the hero card like you? I very well might've saved your life. I had a choice between trying to stall Junia and her crew or responding to your SOS. I choose you."

Ciara words lifted the lid and let out the steam. Still, Zoey was simmering, though her anger was no longer directed at the other reporter.

"I just—" she started.

"—I get it," Ciara said, cutting her off. "I do. You think I'm glad they got away? No. But Junia Stevens's campaign is going to go down in flames, rightfully so, because of what you and I are going to do. Maybe they've escaped jail, but they haven't escaped us, and they certainly won't escape the court of public opinion. Our job isn't to save the world, Zoey, it's to inform it—and on nights like this, maybe it's the same thing."

Zoey shut her eyes and took in a deep breath.

"... Yeah," she agreed. Ciara's reasoning had finally cooled Zoey all the way down. She was right—not just in a metaphorical sense, but a literal one too. Team Galactic's goal—Junia Stevens's goal—was a bona fide beginning for the world, which meant destruction for the one that existed. But she and Ciara, they were going to unearth it; they were going to tell everyone. Team Galactic's plan would never happen.

Ciara started to draw away from Zoey.

"I'm planning on getting us a hotel room, y'know, since we're already here and all," she said. "Hope you're prepared for an all-nighter. Alanis, my editor, wants the first draft by morning."

Zoey smiled weakly. "I will be," she promised. Ciara nodded to her and turned away. Zoey pulled out her phone again and—she knew she should have called Homa, but she ended up dialing Candice again.

Still no response.

"Oh, what now?" Ciara asked, looking at Zoey over her shoulder. Under normal circumstances, Zoey would have been annoyed that Ciara was still hovering around for no apparent reason other than to bother her, but in this case, she just sighed.

"My—girlfriend—" Zoey decided it was easier not to conceal it. "—she hasn't been answering my calls. I feel horrible. She flew out to hang out with me for a few days, and then I got involved in all this. She's so wonderful to me, and I feel like I can never give her what she wants because I'm doing—" Zoey's eyes made a sweep of the scene before her again: police cars, television reporters, confused and curious pedestrians. "—this."

"What, like Candice wants to get married, and you can't commit because you're worried you're too 'busy'?" Ciara questioned dryly. The response jolted Zoey, mostly because it was—well—accurate. That she knew Candice's name might have been more surprising had Zoey not known Ciara's previous line of work. Ciara continued, "Look, I don't know a lot about your relationship, but as someone who spent years reporting on them, I'll say this: The number one thing that destroys relationships are a person's own insecurities. That's what ruined your friend Barry and Kyle's relationship, not me."

Zoey was further bewildered that Ciara brought up Barry now of all times; then she was just plain upset.

"Barry wasn't—" Zoey started in protest.

"I'm not talking about Barry, I'm talking about Kyle," Ciara corrected. "Kyle's insecurities. He's the one who destroyed their relationship. He's the one who destroyed Barry's reputation."

"You gave him the platform to do it," Zoey said, not concealing the bitterness in her voice.

"That is true, and I guess I regret that," Ciara admitted. "But the point is that Candice probably isn't the problem here. You are."

"I know I am," Zoey shot back.

"Then buy her the goddamn ring, Zoey," Ciara said with exasperation, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Zoey stared, but Ciara lifted her gaze above her and remarked, "Oh, we're getting a two-for-one deal."

Zoey looked, too, and saw that Paul _and_ Leaf were emerging from a car that had just pulled up. Zoey pursed her lips. _Of course_ she should have expected Leaf. Even if Jennifer Dey was under Paul's jurisdiction, and even if Leaf was just about ready to give birth in two or three weeks, there was no way Leaf was not going to get involved.

Zoey started mentally gearing up for the interrogation, which she imagined would be wholly unpleasant—but then she saw Candice also emerge from the back of the same vehicle, and all the scripts she was cobbling together in her mind were torn asunder.

Leaf was approaching her directly, but Candice rushed past and embraced Zoey first. Zoey stumbled back from both the force of the hug and her own surprise, but she eventually lifted her arms and reciprocated.

"You're crazy, and I'm crazy proud," Candice sniffled into her hair. Zoey was bewildered not only by the fact Candice was crying, but by her choice of words. She wasn't chastising her; she didn't even sound upset. She just sounded relieved.

There were a dozen things Zoey wanted to say in immediate reply, but of all of them, she found herself uttering in a shaky voice, "You weren't answering my calls."

Candice pulled back and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "When I heard there was trouble in Pewter City, I got really scared and—I got ahold of Dawn, and she convinced Paul to let me come. I left my phone at the inn with the rush. Lucas wanted to come, too, but Leaf took one look at him and said, 'Who are you?' and shut the car door."

Zoey managed a laugh at that. She raised a hand to wipe her eyes, too; she had discovered she was also tearing up. "I thought you were mad," Zoey said.

"Why would I be mad?" Candice asked in all sincerity.

"Well, you—" Zoey almost felt silly bringing it up then. "I mean, you came out all this way, and I've been gone for months, and—and—"

Candice cupped her face. "Zoey," she said her name with as much gravity she could muster, "I couldn't be mad. I told you to do this, and you did. I mean, you scared the hell out of me tonight, so I guess my blood pressure's pretty upset with you."

Zoey laughed again and leaned forward to kiss her—fully, sincerely, warmly. The clearing of a deep voice behind the pair brought them back into reality.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but…" Paul started.

"I do," Leaf brashly interjected, stepping between Zoey and Candice. "Zoey, with all due respect—what the fuck?"

A few feet away, Ciara dramatically gasped, "Such language, Madam Champion! Careful, the baby might hear you."

Leaf glared through her. Ciara turned away and slinked back into the hotel, presumably to finally arrange the hotel room she had promised for herself and Zoey. Leaf then pivoted back toward Zoey, continuing, "How did you even know about Jennifer Dey? That she was under investigation? That she was—" She lowered her voice and hissed through gritted teeth, "— _Hunter J_?"

Zoey's eyes rose only briefly to meet Paul's. She had no plans of giving him away—he'd never speak to her again about anything of remote consequence if she did, and she was ethically obliged to protect her sources—but she was curious about his reaction anyway.

During their brief moment of eye contact, Paul pressed his lips together, giving no hint of what he wanted her to do; perhaps, Zoey realized, he was equally interested in what _her_ reaction would be. If she revealed him, then, well—Paul didn't ever seem to care if Leaf yelled at him anyway. If she preserved his perceived uninvolvement, then he would know he could trust her—not just as a friend, but as a professional, too.

"I've been covering Junia Stevens' campaign for months," Zoey finally answered. "You learn things."

Leaf was clearly unsatisfied with that answer. With good reason, Zoey figured. Her response was purposefully vague.

"Lance has been investigating Jennifer Dey _for over a year now_ ,and you just—you just get her to blow her cover in one night?" Leaf continued with a frustrated incredulity. "How did you do it? What do you know that you told her?"

Zoey raised an eyebrow.

"Lance has been investigating this?" she asked.

It made a lot sense, Zoey realized. On one level, it explained why Leaf was there tonight when Jennifer Dey's case was technically under Paul's jurisdiction. On another, it explained perhaps how Adalet had unintentionally let slip the information that there was criminal activity surrounding Junia Stevens's campaign when he had resigned from the G-Men months earlier. His old superior had probably told him to keep an eye out.

"Yes," Leaf replied tersely. "Answer _my_ question now."

Leaf could always be unpleasant when she was mad—and her business with the G-Men was definitely one of her triggers—but Zoey was finding her particularly insufferable now. She kept her cool though, chalking up Leaf's worse-than-usual temper to the extra 30 pounds she was carrying.

"Bringing up the database was enough," Zoey said, deciding that was a safe amount of information to divulge before she and Ciara wrote their story.

" _Excuse me_?" Leaf demanded, and even Paul looked surprised.

"Oh, you didn't know?" For a moment, Zoey had the urge to take a victory lap—just a small one. "Jennifer Dey is the person who infiltrated the G-Men's database."

"How—" Leaf stopped short. She paused to take a deep breath, recollected herself, then held out her hand. "Okay—let me have it."

Leaf didn't have to clarify for Zoey to know what she wanted: her cell phone.

"Do you have a warrant?" Zoey asked calmly.

"I do, actually," Leaf said, and sure enough, she produced the paper, handing it to Zoey. Zoey exchanged an eyebrow-raised glance with Candice, who had stood coolly beside Zoey throughout the whole ordeal. Zoey remembered who she was dealing in clear detail then, but she was prepared regardless.

"Okay, fine." She handed over her phone without a fight. "But I'm just telling you now: You won't find anything on it."

"I'll be the judge of that," Leaf said lightly. "Not that I don't trust you as a person, Zoey, but—well, you know."

"Uh-huh," Zoey replied in an equally light, unconvinced tone. From the corner of her eye, Zoey caught sight of Ciara again. She was watching the scene unfold intensely, but Zoey gave her a reassuring nod and returned her attention to the two Champions before her. "Is that all?"

"That's it, for now," Leaf said. She waved the phone in front of her. "You can have this back in a couple hours."

"Thanks," Zoey uttered insincerely.

Leaf said nothing further. She simply turned away to leave, but Paul lingered behind a moment longer. His dark eyes carefully watched her go, and once it was certain she was out of earshot, he leaned close to Zoey, murmuring, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Zoey replied. "I should thank you."

There was a slight shift in his stance. Clearly, he was uncomfortable with her even indirectly referencing his involvement. Zoey noticed and decided she wasn't going to press the matter further—yet, Paul himself seemed unable to prevent the following question from spilling out of his mouth.

"How _did_ you know Jennifer Dey was behind the infiltration of the G-Men's database?" he asked. His eyes were searching; Zoey had brought up the database in their last phone conversation, but how she had arrived at that conclusion, she figured, was a mystery to him.

Zoey only smiled wryly in response.

"You'll have to read a copy of tomorrow's _Hearthome Chronicle_ to find out," she said in an almost-playful tone.

Paul made an unimpressed grunt in response, glowering at her. Yet, he didn't protest any further, perhaps because Ciara rejoined Zoey's side, saying, "You done here? We have work to do."

"Yeah," Zoey answered with a tired nod. "Just a moment." She turned back to Candice, who offered her a crooked smile.

"Don't you dare apologize, Zoe-Zoe," she facetiously warned.

"I won't," Zoey promised. She felt herself smiling and growing warm. "I'll just thank you instead." She then pulled the keys to Ritchie's car out of her bag. "Would you take this back to Ritchie tonight? I think I'm gonna be here for a while, and I think it'll save you from having to endure another two-hour car ride with Leaf."

Candice laughed and accepted the keys. "Maybe _I_ should be the one who's grateful." She leaned forward to kiss her again, and Zoey close her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose, savoring the moment. When Candice pulled back, she briefly squeezed Zoey's hand, said she'd tell Lucas they were doing fine, and turned away.

Zoey watched her leave, glowing, before she recollected herself and looked back at Ciara.

"Okay, let's do this," Zoey said. Ciara hummed and gestured for Zoey to follow her. In through the hotel doors they went, and they headed toward the elevator.

Once in their room—a simple two-bed affair—Zoey set up her laptop and notes at the desk while Ciara changed out of her evening gown. After Ciara emerged from the bathroom in more comfortable wear, she, too, pulled out her laptop, her notes, and, most importantly, her cell phone. She laid it on the table between them.

"I haven't listened to the audio you recorded yet," she informed Zoey.

"You're in for a treat then," Zoey said. "Hit play."

* * *

 **A dark past revealed: Junia Stevens, campaign staffers were members of Team Galactic**  
Zoey Williams and Ciara Skelley  
April 19, 2011

 _This story was co-published with The Sinnoan Times_

Nearly ten years before Junia Stevens began running for the highest office of Napaj, she was known by her colleagues as Jupiter—a commander in the Sinnoan crime organization, Team Galactic. Ten years before then, she was known to friends and family as Eileen Kaiden.

In all respects, Junia Stevens's youth was like any other in Napaj. She was born as Eileen to Allen and Jennifer Kaiden in Floaroma Town, Sinnoh, on March 1, 1977. In 1987, she departed from her family on her Pokémon journey. Two years later, she competed in in the 1989 Sinnoh League and made it to the quarterfinals before losing her match.

Then in June 1990, Eileen Kaiden's life took a turn for the worse. Her parents and 6-year-old brother were murdered during a home invasion while she was still on her journey. Sometime thereafter, she met then 19-year-old Sean Cyrus, the CEO of his start-up company, the Galactic Advocacy Group (GAG). She joined the group at 12.

Junia Stevens's campaign spokesperson Marinda Ortiz, formerly known as Mars within the Team Galactic organization, told the _Hearthome Chronicle_ in a late January interview this year that "GAG" was a meaningless acronym, and that it was an advocacy group seeking to advance interests pertaining to the STEM fields. In fact, GAG was a shell company housing funds for Team Galactic's mission: to use the power of Sinnoh's legendary Creation Trio—Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina—to destroy the fabric of the current universe and create a new one.

Ortiz and Satchel Thompson, known as Saturn in Team Galactic, joined the group while attending Canalave University together with Stevens. In 2001, the group hired Jennifer Dey, perhaps better known by her former moniker Hunter J, to capture to Sinnoan lake guardians Azelf, Mesprit, and Uxie. The plot failed: Dey's ship crashed into Lake Valor, and she and the majority of her crew were pronounced or presumed dead; Cyrus disappeared into a time portal created by Dialga and Palkia; Stevens, Ortiz, and Thompson were arrested by the G-Men.

The three were eventually all released on parole at different points in late 2005 or early 2006. They adopted new names and moved on with their lives. Junia Stevens began working for the Eterna City Historical Museum as a curator in 2006, according to Arthur Garcia, the museum's director. Ortiz and Thompson told _The Sinnoan Times_ in February that they both worked in the telecommunications industry.

Then, the Napajian National League announced in August 2010 that it would hold an election for a new presidential office. Thompson told the _Chronicle_ in February that he reached out to Stevens and Ortiz about the possibility of running an election campaign. Of the three, Stevens was chosen to be the candidate, and she contacted Dey, who had survived the Lake Valor accident, about erasing their criminal histories before the election.

On audio obtained by the _Chronicle_ and _Times_ , Dey confesses to hacking into the G-Men's database on Oct. 22, 2010, and replacing Stevens's, Ortiz's, and Thompson's files with counterfeits matching their new identities.

The house of cards collapsed Sunday evening at Junia Stevens's campaign event in Pewter City. When Stevens, Ortiz, Thompson, and Dey were confronted about the true nature of their identities, Dey's Salamence destroyed a portion of the Grand Pewter's ground floor. Dey was apprehended by local police and taken into custody by the G-Men. No charges have been filed as of publication time.

Stevens, Ortiz, and Thompson could not be located following the incident at the Grand Pewter, and all calls to Junia Stevens's campaign have been unreturned.

 _Follow the reporters Zoey Williams and Ciara Skelley at zoey_williams and ciaraske on Chatot._


	11. SNOWPOINT CITY, SINNOH

**Catching up with Barry Pearl three years  
after his Frontier Brain dreams fell apart  
**Nikki Martinez, Entertainment  
Nov. 8, 2011

In late 2008, Barry Pearl was on top of the  
world: He had ranked within the Top 32 of  
six League competitions across Napaj; he  
had earned all six Symbols from both the  
Kanto and Sinnoh Battle Frontiers; and he  
was on the precipice of following in his  
father Palmer Pearl's footsteps and  
becoming a Sinnoh Frontier Brain.

That all fell apart on Jan. 8, 2009, when  
 _Coordinators Weekly_ published photos of  
Pearl and Kyle Tribaldos, a well-known  
coordinator in the Sinnoh contests circuit,  
kissing on the front cover.

The two, according to Pearl, had been  
dating in secret for nearly six months by  
then.

"He was very adamant about keeping the  
whole thing under wraps," Pearl said. "Even  
my closest friends didn't know."

Pearl hadn't been worried when the photos  
published. He said he felt secure in his  
relationship. But Pearl quickly learned that  
Tribaldos was not as unbothered by the  
public outing of their relationship.

One week after the photos were published,  
Tribaldos went to _Weekly_ and claimed there  
was never any relationship and that Pearl  
had "forced himself" on him. The scandal  
that ensued was enough for Pearl to  
withdraw his name from the short list of  
those who would become the next Sinnoh  
Frontier Brain following his father's  
retirement.

Pearl was heartbroken.

"It wasn't just that I wasn't going to be  
Sinnoh Frontier Brain anymore," he said. "I  
had also lost someone who I, at the time,  
loved a bunch. That was really why I felt like  
I had to disappear for a bit."

Since then, Pearl has, in a sense,  
reinvented himself. He worked for the  
Contests in Unova campaign in mid-2009,  
became ordained to officiate weddings, and  
married three different couples: Drew  
Hayden and May Maple, Paul Rebolledo  
and Dawn Berlitz, and Ash Ketchum and  
Misty Waterflower.

"Being able to bring together some of my  
closest friends—it made me less depressed,  
you know?" he said. "Seeing and being a  
part of their relationships, it helped me to  
realize that mine wasn't very good and  
move on."

And move on Pearl has: He revealed that  
he has since begun dating again but  
declined to name his new boyfriend.

"I'll let him take the lead on this," Pearl said.  
"We'll let everyone know when we're ready."

Pearl has also recently re-entered his name  
into the running for a Sinnoh Frontier Brain  
as Kate Argenta recently announced she  
would be stepping down.

 _Follow the reporter Nikki Martinez at  
nikki_martinez_et on Chatot_.

* * *

The first thing Zoey woke up to on Election Day was a newspaper being thrown into her face and Candice screaming the words, "Did you know this was happening?!" Zoey was too groggy and caught off guard to make sense of a single thing she'd said—until she picked up the paper itself and noticed it was the entertainment section of the _Hearthome Chronicle_. And then she noticed the headline itself.

" _What_?!" Zoey was wide awake then, and she immediately began reading the article.

"I'm guessing that's a 'no,'" Candice said. "Barry or Lucas didn't bring it up with you? Who's Nikki Martinez?"

"No, neither of them mentioned it," Zoey mumbled as her eyes continued to scan the article. She was silent for a while, and it was only when she reached the line about how Barry had "reinvented" himself that she realized Candice had asked another question. She looked up at her, continuing, "Nikki Martinez is the columnist that Homa asked to cover contests while I was gone. I didn't even know she had gone back to the entertainment desk already."

Zoey herself hadn't even made it back to her old contests beat under the trainers desk. Over the course of the nearly seven months since the incident at the Grand Pewter in April, she and Ciara had, combined, published close to eighty pieces about Junia Stevens, her staffers, her campaign, Team Galactic, and Jennifer Dey (and her trial). There was simply no contest when it came to who championed the Stevens news coverage. Even Paul had said—perhaps jokingly, but it was difficult to tell—that the G-Men were struggling to keep up with her and Ciara.

Zoey had only arrived back in Sinnoh three days earlier after a two-week stint in Johto, where Marinda Ortiz and Satchel Thompson had purportedly been sighted in Olivine City. Nothing turned up with that, but Zoey had managed to snag an in-person interview with Charles Mook, now (finally) retired, for a story she was working on regarding the trainer database.

After she finished reading, Zoey set aside the newspaper and rubbed at her temple.

"Isn't this pretty much the exact story you pitched to Homa like… a year ago?" Candice asked. "It's _weird_ Barry wouldn't have said anything either."

"Have you called him?" Zoey asked.

"No."

"Well, I'll call him then." Zoey reached for her cell phone sitting atop the nightstand, unplugged it from the charger, and brought up Barry's contact from under the Ps. She pressed the "call" button, and Candice sat on the edge of the bed, leaning close to Zoey to try to listen in on the impending conversation.

" _IT'S ELECTION DAY!_ "

Just as soon as the pair had pressed their ears near the phone, they jerked away again, wincing. She and Candice exchanged exasperated looks with each other, and Zoey waited a moment before figuring Barry was done shouting into the receiver and she could safely hold the phone close to her again.

"Somebody's excited, huh?" Zoey remarked wearily as Candice practically squished her cheek against Zoey's to try listening again.

" _Of course I'm excited!_ " Barry replied. " _I'm waiting in line with Lucas to vote right now. What about you?_ "

"I just woke up."

" _The lines are gonna get long if you wait too much,_ " Barry tutted. " _That's why Lucas and I got up early._ "

"I'll take my chances. Hey, uh," Zoey began her pivot toward the true reason she'd called, "I saw this morning that Nikki Martinez interviewed you for an article she published… ?"

" _Huh? Oh yeah! She was pretty nice. She just called me out of the blue, like, a few days ago,_ " Barry said.

"How come you didn't tell me?"

" _Well, geez, I didn't know I was supposed to check in,_ " Barry half-grumbled. " _I thought you already knew about it anyway._ "

"Why's that?"

" _I dunno—Nikki brought up that you were colleagues, so I figured you were the one who gave her my number,_ " Barry answered with a shrug in his voice.

"I didn't," Zoey said.

" _Oh, well… she got it somehow!_ " Barry said, sounding wholly unconcerned with the affair. Zoey couldn't say she felt the same, but she figured pushing Barry on it any more wouldn't yield any satisfying results—especially when, all things considered, this was a happy ending. Barry continued, " _Anyway, we're gonna see you and Candice tonight, right?_ "

Zoey let out an inaudible sigh but smiled as she exchanged another look with Candice.

"Yeah, you'll see us," she said.

" _Cool, cool,_ " Barry said. " _We're about to head inside, so talk to you later!_ "

"Bye, Barry."

She hung up and tossed the phone a foot away onto the comforter. Candice pursed her lips.

"Weird," she repeated.

"Yeah," Zoey agreed. She rested her chin on her fist for a moment, thinking. "... Would you mind if we went down to Hearthome early today?"

"... No?" Candice blinked. The change in subject, Zoey realized, must have been jarring. "What for, though?"

"I kind of want to go into the newsroom for a little bit."

"You're off work today," Candice pointed out.

"Yeah, and I'm the only journalist in all of Napaj who isn't working today," Zoey said. It was a hyperbolic statement, but Zoey was also pretty sure it wasn't far off from the truth. It was Napaj's first national democratic election, and it was all-hands-on-deck in every newsroom across the nation. "Not that I don't deserve a break after all the work I've been doing for the past year of my life, but I'm kind of curious to see what's going on. I'd also to talk to Nikki and Homa about—" She made a gesture toward the newspaper. "—that."

"Well… sure!" Candice easily agreed. "While you're at the _Chronicle_ , I can do some shopping downtown."

"We can meet up afterward and go to a polling place," Zoey added,

"The lines will probably be longer in Hearthome than they will be here in Snowpoint," Candice warned.

"Yeah," Zoey conceded with a shrug. "But… I'm still not sure how I'm going to vote honestly."

"Really?"

Zoey hummed affirmatively, then inquired, "Do you?"

"Uh-huh. I've known for a while now," Candice said, nodding. "I—" She suddenly stopped herself. "No. I'm not gonna tell you," she decided.

"I'm not going to judge you either way," Zoey said.

"It's not that," Candice corrected. "I just don't want my opinion to influence you. You should get to make your own decision. I mean, you've been more invested in this election that most, and you ought to get to make your choice on your own."

"I've been invested in _one_ ex-candidate," Zoey said, "and not for good reasons."

"The point still stands," Candice shrugged. "But—anyway, if you want to go down to Hearthome, we should leave soon."

"Yeah," Zoey agreed, throwing the comforter off her. "I'll just shower, and we can go."

* * *

Zoey was used to the _Chronicle_ newsroom being a little chaotic. It was, after all, a newsroom, and the news was always changing, always developing, at a breakneck speed. But upon walking onto her floor, the one where the trainer news desk resided, she suddenly found "chaotic" was too conservative a term. The scene before her was an ever-shifting storm of people moving here to there, printers printing, reporters reporting. A cacophony of sounds rose up: phones ringing, a dozen conversations at once, computer keys clicking at a rapid-fire pace.

And the polls had only opened four hours earlier.

Zoey proceeded with caution, suddenly unsure of what to do with herself. A reporter scribbling on a notepad and talking into her cell phone nearly ran into her and paused only long enough to utter a hurried "Sorry!" before continuing on her way. Zoey didn't have a chance to repeat back the same polite platitudes. Blinking, she looked across the floor and through the plexiglass wall saw Homa sitting at her desk with a phone in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Even from a distance, Zoey could see there were at least a half-dozen other cups sprawled haphazardly on her desk.

Zoey took a turn, heading into the small employee break room just around the bend of the next hallway. A half-full pot of coffee sat on the machine, and Zoey began to pour a cup. If she was going to interrupt Homa in the middle of a journalistic apocalypse, she had at least better bring a peace offering.

The break room's mounted television set was playing PNN. The anchors were, of course, discussing the election. The most recent Roto-Data polling showed Sinternik and Adalet neck-and-neck among voters with Sinternik polling only 1 percent higher—and a 2 percent margin of error. Meanwhile, they were waiting on results from today's exit polls.

"Careful—careful!"

Zoey snapped out of her thoughts and set the coffee pot down, realizing she'd nearly poured over the top of the cup and burned her hand. Zoey looked to her left to thank whoever had prevented a trip to the doctor's office and realized her mid-morning savior was in fact Nikki Martinez.

"You okay there?" Nikki asked. "You seriously spaced out for a moment."

"Yeah, yeah," Zoey hurriedly replied. "Thanks. I just got distracted."

Nikki breathed a disbelieving yet somehow still relieved sigh through her nose before her eyes rose to the screen. "Big day," she conceded. She looked back at Zoey before adding, "I thought you were off work today."

"I am," Zoey said, "but I was in the area. I thought I'd come by." A pause. Zoey glanced down at her darkened reflection in the coffee cup then back up at Nikki again. "Hey, so, I read your story this morning. I didn't know you'd moved back to entertainment."

"Oh, I technically haven't yet," Nikki said with a wave of her hand. "I'm still covering contests while you're out taking down major political campaigns at your leisure."

Zoey wasn't sure how she was supposed to react to that comment, so she didn't.

Nikki continued, "It was just a sort-of one-off thing for now. Your _SinnoanTimes_ frenemy actually gave me the tip that I ought to follow up on it."

Zoey nearly took umbrage at Ciara being called her "frenemy"—even if it wasn't an inaccurate assessment—but she was too interested in this new tidbit of information to really care. "She did?" Zoey asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nikki hummed, adding, "She was in the office like last week bringing something from Alanis to Homa. I ended up chatting with her for a couple minutes, and she gave me Barry's number."

Ciara, Zoey decided, was a true enigma. She could be an utter pain in the ass while working together one night and then turn around the next and do something like this. Zoey appreciated that, and she supposed it was why they had still managed to work together without throttling each other over the past seven months.

"When I pitched the idea to Homa, though, she pretty much immediately shot me down," Nikki went on, arresting Zoey's full attention once again, "but she told me it _should_ be covered—just under entertainment, and she leant me back to my old desk for the story."

And if Ciara was an enigma, then Homa was a paradox.

"Ah," Zoey said.

"What, hoping I was gone so you could go back to covering contests?" Nikki asked.

"No, I was just wondering," Zoey politely dismissed.

Homa's coffee would grow tepid if Zoey dawdled any longer, so she exchanged only a few more civil words with Nikki and went on her way. She returned to the pandemonium that was the Election Day newsroom and wove her way through the whitewater medley of other journalists moving about until she made it to Homa's office. She sat in the chair across from Homa, whom Zoey was not entirely convinced had even noticed she'd come in.

"Well, you need to _get_ his number then," Homa said impatiently into the receiver. She was silent for a moment then, listening, but tapping the end of her pencil against her desk. "It's PNN. They're owned by the same company as us. They should give us the exit polling data." She was silent another moment. "Fine. I'll find the number, but you have to call them."

She promptly hung up. Then, she looked Zoey straight in the eye and said, "I'm going to scream."

Zoey didn't want to know why, but she supposed she was at least glad Homa had acknowledged her presence.

"I got you this," Zoey offered, holding out the cup of coffee she'd retrieved.

"Oh, you're a lifesaver, Williams," Homa said, gladly accepting Zoey's oblation. She held the cup close to her lips, carefully testing the temperature before taking a full sip. She then set the drink beside the litany of other empty coffee cups on her desk. If she wasn't her boss, Zoey might've told Homa she had a problem.

"So what can I help you with?" Homa asked. "I know you didn't come here just to chat."

"Would you be mad if I did?"

Someone shouted an unrelated curse out in the newsroom.

"A little, yeah," Homa said. Zoey did a mental calculation then: It probably took Homa about four minutes to get up, go to the break room, and pour a cup of coffee herself, and since Zoey had just spent about a minute gifting her with said cup of coffee, she had at least three minutes to say what she wanted before Homa kicked her out.

"I wanted to ask about Nikki Martinez's article this morning," Zoey said.

Homa half-scoffed and turned her attention to her computer. She started searching something up—probably the phone number of whoever the person she'd last spoken with needed.

"Yeah, don't say I never did anything for you," Homa said.

Zoey was almost touched.

"You did that for me?" she asked.

"Don't get too sentimental. I wasn't going to publish that garbage in my section," Homa said, "but it _was_ a good fit for entertainment."

Zoey folded her hands in her lap and bit down a grin.

"Well—I appreciate it anyway," she said. "And you've done some nice work with Nikki while I've been gone. Her story almost read like a real news article today."

"She's gotten a lot better," Homa agreed. "Why the compliments for Nikki all of a sudden? Last year, you told me she could keep the seat warm and I'd want you back. Want her to keep warming your seat?"

Zoey blinked and it took a moment for her to realize what Homa was asking.

"Uh—yeah," Zoey found herself saying before she had even fully thought through her answer. "I'm happy doing what I'm doing right now."

Homa paused what she was doing just long enough to look at Zoey again. "Well, good," she said, "because I'd like to keep you there for a while. You and Ciara—you've been doing great work."

There were few things as validating as an utterly genuine compliment from Homa. Perhaps the only thing that could beat it was an utterly genuine compliment from Paul. A proud warmth grew out from Zoey's chest, and she felt herself sit a little taller.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. Homa smiled too, but then her phone rang again.

"It's your day off, and I'm sure Candice wants your company. You should go," Homa said as she reached for the receiver, "or else I'm going to end up putting you to work." She picked up the phone and tucked it under her ear. "What's up, Aiyalah?"

Zoey took the warning seriously and slipped out of her office.

* * *

Outside the agreed-upon polling place where they would meet, Candice texted to say she would be running a little late—traffic was more congested than usual—so Zoey found refuge in The Burmy Bean, only a block away, and decided to order herself some tea while she waited. The few television sets in the small café were also turned to PNN, which was reporting outside a polling location in Celadon City, Erol Adalet's hometown. Adalet had just cast his ballot.

" _Mr. Adalet! Mr. Adalet!_ " Journalists were following Adalet out in the parking lot. " _Would you like to make some comments, sir?_ "

" _I'll take a few questions, yes,_ " Adalet said in his usual manner of speaking—his firm, no-nonsense voice.

" _How are you feeling this morning? Roto-Data's final poll showed Sinternik is ahead of you by 1 percent._ "

" _I'm not concerned about that,_ " Adalet answered, and he truly did look unfazed. " _Regardless of who is elected, today is a victory for everyone in Napaj. That we are casting vote this morning, that speaks to the change I strive for in our country. If elected, I would continue to carry out that change, but I know Sinternik would as well._ "

" _Thank you, Mr. Adalet._ "

Zoey watched the report attentively, nursing her drink as she did. It was an eloquent response to the question; Zoey would grant Adalet that much. His oratory prowess couldn't match that of Sinternik, an experienced politician, but what Adalet lacked in florid speech he made up for with a genuine rhetorical passion. What you saw was what you got. Zoey could appreciate that at least.

Back in the studio, the talking heads began discussing polling numbers again, and Zoey lost interest. She flipped over her cell phone and opened up Chatot to peruse her feed. Trip's girlfriend, Georgia, had Chatted a photo of them together waiting in line somewhere in Nimbasa City. Ash, meanwhile, had Chatted a picture of Misty, now many months pregnant and sporting an "I voted" sticker. Then there was Barry, screaming something in all caps about how excited he was to cast his ballot.

A thought occurred to Zoey, and she closed Chatot and opened her messages. It had been several days since she had last spoken with Ciara, but now was as good a time as ever.

 _Thanks.  
_ _ **Delivered**_

It was a simple message, no bells or whistles. Just an uncomplicated thank you. Zoey was prepared to turn her phone over again and resume watching PNN, but Ciara responded back almost immediately with one message, then another in quick succession.

 _Finally, I get some gratitude  
out of you. _

_What's this for, by the way?_

For some reason, Zoey cracked a smile.

 _Nothing in particular.  
_ **Read 1:36 p.m.  
**...

Sinternik was now on the screen, speaking with reporters outside his mayoral office in Goldenrod City. He spoke cautiously of his tight lead over Adalet, acknowledging it would be a close race, before making his final pitch.

" _I recognize voters have a challenging decision ahead of them today,_ " he said, " _but I would implore them to think deeply about, not only who has the country's best interests at heart, but who has the experience and knowithall to carry those interests out._ "

" _Do you believe you're that person, Mr. Sinternik?_ "

Sinternik grinned. " _If I didn't, I wouldn't have ever run,_ " he said.

It was easy to see why Sinternik held such mass appeal. He was charming, and Goldenrod City had done well under him. Plus, after the disaster that was Greg Abel's campaign, Sinternik was able to fall back on his experience defending Alice Caden as evidence of his support for women. Adalet didn't have something quite as solid to which he could point.

"Hey!" Candice latched out onto Zoey's shoulder from behind, almost causing her to cough up her own drink in surprise. "Sorry it took me so long. You ready to go?"

"Y-Yeah," Zoey said, wiping her mouth and managing a smile.

"You know who to vote for now?" Candice asked. Zoey again glanced at the broadcast, where Sinternik was still speaking.

"Yeah," she repeated.

The line outside the polling place wrapped once around the building, but luckily, it seemed to be moving fast. _Very_ luckily, because extended periods of time in sunny weather prompted complaints out of her girlfriend, a true-blue Snowpoint City native.

"Ugh," Candice groaned, cupping a hand over her eyes and squinting, "I should've brought sunglasses—and a tank top."

Zoey had to roll her eyes. "This isn't even bad," she said. "It's November."

"I'm sweating."

"No you're not."

"No, really! Feel my hand! It's super sweaty." Candice promptly grabbed one of Zoey's hands in an effort to demonstrate her grievance.

"Your hand is not—" Zoey stopped mid-sentence and deadpanned. She had caught onto Candice's game. "Ha ha, you're so slick."

Candice looked proud of herself, saying, "You fell for it, though, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh," Zoey drolled. They nevertheless continued to hold hands as they moved through the line, even when Candice pulled out her own phone to check her Chatot. They followed most of the same people, so Zoey could guess what would happen soon.

"You and I should take a selfie!" Candice suddenly announced.

Yup. She'd seen Georgia and Trip's photo.

"Yeah?" Zoey asked, craning an eyebrow in amusement.

"I mean, if you're okay with it…" Candice coyly went on. Zoey had to laugh, and she held Candice's hand a little tighter.

"Sure," she agreed.

Candice was utterly delighted and immediately switched from Chatot to her camera app. Pulling Zoey in close, she held the camera before them and flashed her most winsome smile. Zoey smiled, too; though she was fully aware she could never match her girlfriend's photogenic charm, she could at least try. It took several attempts before Candice was finally satisfied, and they pulled back apart while Candice opened up her Chatot again.

"Is it okay if I tag you in it?" Candice said, looking at Zoey for her permission.

Zoey knew why she was asking. For years, they had sequestered their relationship from the eyes of the world at large, for reasons Candice couldn't fully understand but was willing to respect. For someone who worked in the news media, Zoey knew she was awfully cautious of it—and for good reason, she would argue. Kyle and Barry's relationship had fallen apart after _Coordinators Weekly_ published their photos; Iris and Cilan's devastation after losing their first child was broadcast across the nation; Wallace and Winona were dragged through a media circus the first time they dated and broke up; Nikki Martinez published articles judging whom among the nation's couples were the best and brightest. The media's spotlight could be brutal because it was so powerful.

But then again, that kind of power had given her and Ciara the ability to shed light on Junia Stevens's past and inform the world of her dangerous campaign to end their nation's new democracy before it had a chance to begin. And standing there in that line to vote, Zoey realized that maybe she had been a little unfair—to Candice, and to her industry. Ciara had pointed out that it wasn't her or _Coordinators Weekly_ who ruined Kyle and Barry's relationship. It was Kyle. Similarly, it wasn't _The Sinnoan Times_ or the _Hearthome Chronicle_ that ruined Junia Steven's campaign; it was Junia Stevens herself.

If she and Candice were to fall apart, it wouldn't be because Nikki ran an article about how a Top Coordinator turned renowned journalist was dating a gym leader. It would be because Zoey had sabotaged their own relationship through her fears and insecurities.

But they had nothing to hide. Zoey—she knew she, personally, had plenty to hide. But her and Candice together…

"Yeah, it's fine," Zoey answered, smiling. Candice grinned, tapped a few more letters on her phone screen, then sent off the Chat. Zoey's own phone vibrated with the notification that she'd been tagged. She opened it up just to see what it said: "Out here in line to vote with my favorite star reporter _zoey_williams_! Say hi if you see us."

Zoey's chest swelled, and she, holding Candice's hand again, cast a furtive glance toward her girlfriend, who was still busying herself with checking out the rest of her Chatot feed.

They soon reached the doors and were able to cross the air-conditioned threshold, for which Candice was immensely glad—and, by extension, Zoey too. It was only then that Candice finally let go of Zoey's hand as they approached the front table, which was being tended by an elderly woman.

"Do you have any trainer IDs dearies?" the woman asked.

"Yes, we do!" Candice said in a near-melodious manner, brandishing her ID. Zoey, meanwhile, reached into her bag to find her wallet. She opened it up to find her ID—but her blood ran cold when, after running her fingers through the pockets of cash, memberships, and other badges that her trainer ID was absent. She must have mistakenly left it at home in Snowpoint City.

"I—don't," Zoey admitted.

"Oh, that's all right," the woman quickly reassured her as she moved to the laptop she had in front of her. "Your name?"

"Zoey Williams."

There was a flash of recognition in the woman's eyes, and she slowly lifted her gaze over her laptop to get a closer look at Zoey. Zoey was used to this for many reasons. After she won her first Top Coordinator title, she became familiar with the adoring gazes of Super Contests fans, younger coordinators especially. After her involvement in the 2002 G-Men conspiracy, she became familiar with the questioning eyes, the looks of suspicion, the sense of awe.

But this—this was different. It was not idolization or distrust in this woman's expression. It was something more akin to respect. And that was when Zoey realized that this woman recognized her for her byline and not anything else.

The woman lowered her eyes to the screen again.

"And your date of birth?"

"May 14th, 1985," Zoey recited.

The woman typed the date into her computer. "Yes, here you are," she announced. "Okay, I'll get your ballot printed off."

Candice peered ahead to catch sight of what program the woman was using. Then, falling back on her heels, she grinned at Zoey and said, "Looks like the G-Men's database on trainers was good for something after all." Zoey managed a tepid laugh in response.

The printer whirred to life, and Zoey's ballot came warm off the press. The elderly woman scanned Candice's ID into a reader, and her ballot was soon the follow. The woman then directed them toward two individual voting booths.

Candice bounded with excited resolution into her booth whilst Zoey slow-walked the trip as her eyes scanned the ballot. Once in the privacy of her own booth, she laid the ballot down ahead of her and stared at it. It was utterly straightforward. Two choices: Mitchell Sinternik or Erol Adalet? The political season had began with seven, but they had either quietly tapered off or disappeared in a roar of scandal.

Zoey had told Candice she knew how she was going to vote at the café. She hadn't been lying. At the time, she thought she did know. But now that the decision was before her, she found herself thrown into doubt again.

Who should she vote for after everything that had happened? Sinternik, clearly! He was even-headed like Tom Waylend, the other popular candidate before he dropped out, and he actually gave a supposed damn about women after the business with Alice Caden and #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt.

But there was much else at stake. This was a brand-new democracy. This was the new beginning Junia Stevens had extolled throughout her campaign. It was a far different vision from that of Stevens, but the newness of it all reminded Zoey that it so easily could have been Stevens. It could have gone so wrong. It could still go so wrong. Whoever she chose—whoever the nation chose—they would have to safeguard their democracy from backsliding into the nepotic authority with which the League had governed for years.

Sinternik—he could do that, couldn't he? He hadn't spoken much on it throughout his campaign. That was Adalet's torch to bear, and despite every reservation Zoey harbored toward him, he had had beared it well.

Ciara Skelley, perhaps strangely, suddenly came to mind. At the start of all of this, Zoey hated her. She hated what had happened to Barry, and so she hated her. She refused to let go of her anger; Ciara hadn't made it easy, but it was her own stubborn nature that had stalled what would eventually become a phenomenal partnership—a partnership that, Zoey believed, played at least a small part in protecting their budding democracy.

And now, Zoey realized, she was still refusing to let go of her assumptions. She did not like Adalet. What happened nearly a decade earlier, it had soured her opinion of him. But that was the thing—it had been almost ten years. What was she preventing? Was she denying her country, herself, something greater? Was—?

In the midst of Zoey's inner turmoil, she stopped and realized she had already marked Adalet's name.

A brief surge of panic came over her. It was in pen; there was no way she could erase it. She wondered if she could ask for a new ballot or just ultimately decide to opt out—crumple it up and throw it away, casting the fate of their country to the will of everyone but herself. She'd already done her part, hadn't she?

And then she relaxed. No, she wouldn't throw it out. This was her decision. And she would stand by it.

She stepped out of the booth with ballot in hand. Candice was already outside, feeding her own ballot into the counter. Seeing Zoey, Candice grinned and gestured got her to come over. Zoey managed a smile, too, and joined her. She slipped her ballot into the counter after Candice.

* * *

Dawn had called a week or so earlier to announce she (and Paul, though Zoey suspected it was all Dawn) were hosting a get-together on Election Night to watch the results come in, and Barry and Lucas and Kenny and Leona were coming, and oh, wouldn't she and Candice come too? Of course, Zoey had answered without any need for consulting Candice, whom Zoey knew would fall over herself at the opportunity to see Lizzie. She was a year and a half now, and walking. She talked a little too, but like her father, she seemed more reserved with her words.

Her father's lap was where she resided, and like everyone else, her eyes were glued to the television screen as the polls were now closing in Sinnoh, and they could expect the results to start pouring in at any minute. Lizzie could not possibly grasp the significance of what was happening, but the suspense was impossible for even her to ignore.

"How long do you suppose it'll be before the polling locations start to report their numbers?" Leona asked, casting Paul a side glance.

"How would I know?" he gruffly replied.

Leona craned an eyebrow at him. As one of the newer members of their inner circle—she and Kenny had made their relationship official only a couple months before—she still wasn't well-versed in the Language of Paul, and it was easy to misread him.

"Oh, I dunno, 'cause you're the _Champion_?" she suggested.

"I had nothing to do with the election commission," Paul grunted. "It was independent of the League."

Leona sighed, "Nevermind."

Dawn shot Paul some sort of warning expression, and they made eye contact. Paul's expression did not change, but he adjusted Lizzie on his lap and directed his attention to the screen again. She then smiled and looked back toward the rest of the group.

"Well, since it might be a while, does anyone have any drink requests?" she asked. "We have lemonade, chai, orange juice… I think we have some champagne, too." She looked at Paul for confirmation. He gave a small nod. Dawn returned her attention to full group again, adding, "Maybe we can break it out after we put Lizzie to bed."

"Ooh, yeah, I'd be down for some champagne," Lucas said. He had been leaning far back into the sofa cushions, his arm casually hanging near Barry's shoulder, but he now straightened up. "And, you know, we might have a need for alcohol later depending on how the night goes."

"Champagne is supposed to be a celebratory drink," Zoey pointed out.

"It can get you drunk just the same," Kenny said.

"Exactly," Lucas said.

No one had shared any details on whom had voted for whom, so there wasn't much in the way of telling who in the room was pulling for Sinternik or who was pulling for Adalet or who was just pulling for a miracle. So however the "night went" may very well have meant different things to different people—and so when the champagne came out, its purposes might be different, too.

"All right, I'll save the champagne for later," Dawn agreed before disappearing into the kitchen.

The first polls started to report. Sinternik held an immediate, though marginal, lead in southern Sinnoh. Dawn brought some assorted beverages back, including some warmed milk for Lizzie. Bit by bit, she drained the drink until she eventually let it fall by the wayside (luckily, Paul caught the half-empty bottle before it could hit the ground and spill). Her eyes were still locked onto the television screen, though she was starting to blink and yawn.

The majority of Sinnoh still wasn't reporting by the time polls closed an hour later in the Indigo regions. Lizzie was nodding off by that point, so Dawn acquiesced to taking her to bed.

"These ought to be the big indicator, I think," Kenny remarked in regards to Kanto and Johto. "Adalet's Kantoan, and Sinternik's Johtoan, so if Adalet polls better in Johto…" He trailed off, then realized his error and added, "Or, uh, if Sinternik polls better in Kanto… that'd be a sign."

It was impossible to predict. What wasn't impossible to discern, now, was for whom Kenny had cast his ballot. The choice perhaps surprised Zoey. She hadn't spent any time theorizing how her friends would lean, but she supposed she had assumed they would lean away from Adalet. Then again, Iris had said nearly all the Champions had been swayed to personally support him.

Zoey cast a furtive glance at Paul. His expression was, as usual, difficult to interpret, but he _seemed_ at least somewhat intrigued by what Kenny was saying. So maybe Iris was right, and Paul did favor Adalet.

By the time Dawn returned, nearly 50 percent of both Kanto and Johto were reporting while Sinnoh still stood at a measly 18 percent. Sinternik and Adalet were neck-and-neck.

"Sheesh," Barry remarked. "These pollsters gotta pick up the pace in Sinnoh."

When Hoenn's polls closed, the Indigo regions were at 89 percent reporting, and Sinnoh was only at 36 percent. The middle areas of the wintry region—Hearthome in particular—had yet to report anything. Adalet now held the marginal lead over Sinternik.

"Are you _sure_ you're not supposed to do anything as Champion?" Leona asked. "Why is Sinnoh moving so slow?"

Paul shrugged.

"Aren't you worried?" Leona pressed.

"No," he answered bluntly. "It's not my concern."

Leona was clearly unsatisfied with his response; Zoey watched the exchange carefully then cast her eyes about the room, noticing that others seemed ill at ease as well. Barry was tapping his foot impatiently; Kenny was twiddling his thumbs; Lucas's relaxed position on the sofa had stiffened; Dawn looked at her husband as if on alert.

Zoey suddenly felt Candice's hand slip into hers. She glanced at her girlfriend, who gave her a nervous smile.

Paul must have sensed the rise in tension across the room as well because he straightened up and continued, "Look, I'm fully confident in the election commission. We spent months figuring out the details and how to make it independent of the League. I'm not worried. If you called Leaf, I doubt she'd be worried either. Sinnoh is a large and heavily populated region. It's probably just taking more time to count the ballots."

His reasoning (and invocation of the ever-agitated Johto Champion's name) quelled the fears of his company—for now. Even Zoey found herself releasing tension in her shoulders. This election was so important, too important, and Zoey had not spent more than a year of her life dedicated to its protection for something to go wrong now, so Paul's words were well-appreciated.

Hoenn was moving slower than Kanto and Johto, though not quite as slow as Sinnoh. Within twenty minutes, 16 percent of Hoenish polls were reporting. The margin between Sinternik and Adalet remained about the same, with the latter only slightly ahead. With polls in Unova another forty minutes from closing, Lucas, with Dawn's help, scrapped together several decks of cards and suggested they play Pounce. They cleared the table in front of the television and paired up (Dawn needing a partner was the only way Paul would ever be roped into play) while the results continued to pour in.

"See if you can find a seven of hearts in your deck," Candice said in a low voice to Zoey deep into the third round. "I have an eight, nine, and ten, and then we'll be out."

"I'll see what I can do," Zoey agreed in an equally low voice.

Lucas laid out a ten of spades, and both Paul and Kenny dove for it with an eleven. Paul won.

"Oh, _fuck_ you," Kenny glowered at him. Paul shrugged him off.

"You guys wanted me to play," he said.

"No, _Dawn_ wanted you to play because she knew she'd win if she had you on her team," Kenny corrected. Dawn smiled wryly in response while she continued to tab through the remainder of her and Paul's deck.

Overheard from the television: The polls in Unova were closing. Zoey found the seven of hearts Candice wanted, nudged her shoulder, and laid it out. Candice gleefully followed up with her three-card combo and shouted, "Out!"

A collective groan emerged from their opponents. Lucas gathered the cards back up and split them between himself and Leona to sort them.

"I didn't do too hot that round," Kenny informed Leona. "I had eight cards left in my deck of 12. I could've gotten moreif _someone_ hadn't beaten me to the ten." Paul blatantly ignored him as he received his and Dawn's cards back and started to calculate their score.

"I got a lot out from the rest, so maybe we'll break even," Leona said hopefully.

As Candice counted their cards, Zoey glanced at the screen again. Already, 10 percent of Unova was reporting; 53 percent of Hoenn was reporting; 96 percent of Kanto and Johto were reporting; 41 percent of Sinnoh was reporting. Sinternik had pulled ahead of Adalet again. Zoey frowned and looked away, but her eyes briefly met Dawn's. She had been watching the screen, too, and she was also frowning. After catching her eye, Dawn looked down and refocused her attention on the game.

Zoey pursed her lips. She supposed it made sense if Dawn voted for Adalet. If Paul supported Adalet, then it was reasonable for Dawn to support him, too.

Lucas found the sheet on which they were keeping score. "All right, so who earned what?"

"Fourteen points for us," Dawn said with a smile while Paul shuffled the deck.

"A grand total of one point for Kenny and I," Leona said, fanning herself. "At least one of us did our job well." Kenny pushed his shoulder against hers, and she laughed.

Barry finished counting his and Lucas's cards.

"How many for us?" Lucas inquired.

"Negative eight points," Barry said, grinning.

" _Hell yeah_ ," Lucas said, and they high-fived. Zoey exchanged a quirked smile with Candice. They were a good match for each other, Lucas and Barry; and for that matter, so were Leona and Kenny.

"And how about our lovely winners?" Lucas asked, looking at Candice and Zoey.

Candice grinned. " _Twenty-seven_ points."

Lucas whistled, then started to do the math.

"All right, so… that puts Zoey and Candice in the lead, barely, at 52 points. Close behind in second are Paul and Dawn at 50 points. Kenny and Leona are at 31. And Barry and I…" He paused for dramatic effect. "Negative four points."

" _Hell yeah!_ " Barry repeated Lucas's earlier sentiment, and they high-fived again.

An audible gasp halted their celebrations. It was Leona, and she was pointing at the television screen.

"Look—a _huge_ chunk of Sinnoh just reported, and Adalet jumped way ahead into the lead!" she said with a breathless excitement.

Everyone did look, and they were taken aback. It was true: Sinnoh had suddenly jumped to 87 percent reporting, and Adalet had blown past Sinternik by 3 or 4 percentage points rather than give-or-take 1 percent that separated the candidates.

" _No way_ ," Lucas exhaled, and then he grinned. "That's gonna be pretty tough for Sinternik to overcome at this point, wouldn't it? Almost all of Kanto, Johto, _and_ Sinnoh are reporting, and half of Hoenn's there, too."

"It depends a lot on Unova at this point," Paul agreed. It was now reporting 16 percent of its votes.

"So if Sinternik can't earn back votes in Unova…" Candice started slowly.

"Adalet will win," Zoey finished for her.

The gravity of her words impressed upon everyone in the room. The game was cast aside, and the group's attention was fully devoted to the rest of the election coverage. As the percentages reporting started to tick up bit by bit in Unova and the remainder of Hoenn, Zoey took a moment to glance around the room. Earlier, she had thought to herself it didn't matter to her how her friends voted, but now she was arrested by the very question. Kenny had outed himself as in favor of Adalet; Paul allegedly had supported him for a while, and Dawn seemed to be of the same mind; Leona and Lucas's reactions suggested they also were pulling for Adalet. That left just Barry and Candice.

Kanto and Johto reached 100 percent reporting. Hoenn had slowed down significantly, now having barely inched toward a 63 percent, and Sinnoh had again stopped almost altogether, sitting at its 87 percent. Unova, however, gradually climbed up the ranks to 25 percent, 30 percent, 35 percent…

"At what point can they call it?" Lucas asked. It took Zoey a moment to realize the question was directed at her as the journalist in the room, not at Paul the Champion. Everyone's eyes were suddenly on her, Paul's included.

"I'm not sure," Zoey admitted. "I'm not a data analyst. I can imagine it's getting close though. The chance Sinternik has to close in on Adalet is narrowing."

Just as soon as she said it, the anchor Brian Shriver's voice broke through the conversation with an announcement: " _Breaking news: Due to an additional 11 percent of voting precincts in Sinnoh reporting, PNN now projects Erol Adalet will be elected as the first president of Napaj._ "

A collective gasp, a squeak—the latter was Dawn, and she subsequently slapped a hand over her mouth in shock. Then:

" _ **YE-ESSS!**_ " Barry screamed the word as he leapt to his feet and pumped his fists. After the initial winces and groans, there was laughter—celebratious, joyous laughter. It had happened. It had finally happened.

Soon, everyone was on their feet. Lucas, Barry, and Kenny were jumping around like their favorite sports team had won the championship; Leona pulled Kenny away briefly to kiss him. Dawn embraced Paul, then stepped away to embrace Zoey. As Zoey lifted her arms to reciprocate, it occurred to her that they hadn't even been this excited when Ash won the Championship.

But that was just the first step. This was the endgame.

When Dawn started to pull away, Zoey looked over her shoulder at Candice—and realized, with a stone-cold drop of her heart, that she was crying with her hands pressed hard against her mouth. It again occurred to Zoey that she didn't know how Candice had voted and that maybe she was disappointed. But then Candice dropped her hands, and Zoey saw that she was in fact smiling. These were tears of happiness.

She wiped at her eyes and quietly announced she needed a moment. No one heard her except Zoey—and she was the one who followed Candice out to the front porch.

Candice immediately plopped onto the front step and pulled out her phone. Zoey slid beside her, saying nothing, but rested her head on her shoulder, looking over Candice's Chatot feed.

From _ritchiej_ : "Thrilled to have _erol_adalet_ as our first president!"

From _hoennprmay_ : "Congratulations President _erol_adalet!_ "

From _e4_georgia_ : "What a night. #NapajElection2011"

From _garymfoak_ : "Hell yeah _erol_adalet_!"

From _mctrip_ , with a photo of Adalet and Iris working together: "Congratulations _erol_adalet._ #NapajElection2011"

From _haydenworks_ : "Democracy wins. #NapajElection2011"

The Champions were noticeably silent—a unified vow of political neutrality. The way it should be.

Candice started a new Chat: "Hopeful for the future tonight. #NapajElection2011"

After she pressed send, Zoey slid her hand over Candice's knee and asked, "You doing okay?"

Candice let out a weak laugh. "Yeah," she said, wiping at her eyes again. "Sorry. I didn't expect I'd get so emotional over it."

"It's okay," Zoey assured her. "It's a really big deal."

Candice didn't respond to her remark. Instead, she turned to Zoey and, looking more serious than she ever had in recent memory, held both of Zoey's hands in hers. "Thank you," she said with as much sincerity as she could possibly muster.

Zoey would have been touched if she weren't confused. "What are you thanking me for?" she asked.

"For doing what you do," Candice said. "I remember how much you didn't want to leave when Homa told you to cover Junia Stevens. But you did. And I'm so grateful."

Zoey stared. Candice had long ago made clear that she supported Zoey's career efforts and continued to repeatedly assure her of that support. But to thank her for it? Zoey had spent a year agonizing over what felt like abandonment, over what she felt like she couldn't give her long-time girlfriend… and yet…

"Candice…" Zoey started slowly, and then the remaining words just tumbled out. "I think we should get married."

Candice's eyes went impossibly wide, and she dropped Zoey's hands as she reeled back in surprise.

" _What_?!" she exclaimed. Zoey could only let out a nervous laugh in response before Candice continued, "Wait, you're serious? Like actually?"

"Yes, I'm serious," Zoey said. "I, um, don't have a ring or anything, but—"

"I don't care about that!" Candice suddenly tackled her with a hug. "Yes! My answer is yes!"

Zoey could have pointed out that she hadn't actually _asked_ Candice if she wanted to marry her—she'd just suggested that maybe they _should_ —but she grinned and laughed instead, choosing not to ruin the moment.

" _He_ - _y_ ," Dawn sang a little as she poked her head through the front door. "I don't meant to interrupt, but we're about to break out the champagne—to celebrate!"

Candice immediately leapt to her feet.

"And we'll have _two_ things to celebrate tonight," she said proudly. "Because Zoey and I just got engaged!"

Dawn's expression briefly faltered into a look of shock. "W-What?!"

"It's true!~" Candice said. Dawn looked at Zoey for confirmation, and she gave a little smile, shrug, and a nod.

Dawn grinned. "No way!" she said, running up to embrace both of them. "This is so exciting!" She then turned and threw the front door fully open, dragging both Candice and Zoey inside. "Guess what, guys?!"

"Dawn…" Zoey mumbled, embarrassed, but she forgot her now-fiancée was as every bit an extrovert as Dawn.

"Zoey and I are getting married!" Candice declared, stepping up.

Their other friends' reactions were much like that of Dawn's: Initial shock, then excitement.

"For real?!" Lucas questioned. "That's awesome!"

"Yeah, show us the ring!" Barry added.

"No ring yet," Candice said, fanning herself with her hand to demonstrate. Her tone indicated she wasn't at all bothered by its absence.

"Aw, _lame_ ," Barry grumbled, glowering at Zoey.

"Well, congratulations regardless," Leona said.

"I'll second that," Kenny jumped in. "Congratulations."

"And with that…" Even Paul, despite his usual gruff demeanor, spoke a little lighter. He popped off the champagne's cork over a hand towel, which he promptly used to clean up the spray. He then poured two glasses, which he immediately served to Candice and Zoey. "First, to the happy couple."

"And to democracy!" Candice declared triumphantly, raising her glass.

They could toast to that.

In the background, Zoey was vaguely aware that Adalet was giving his victory speech. Sinternik's concession would inevitably soon follow. But she didn't care to pay much attention to that right now. She was in good company, the best company, and she was warm all over—not just from the champagne, but from the feeling of Candice's hands in hers.

She suddenly felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket, and Zoey knew there was only one person who would call her now of all times. She pulled out the phone and found that Candice was looking at her, but she just smiled and nodded to her. And so, Zoey smiled too, took the phone, and stepped away.

"Hi, Homa."

* * *

 _A/N: Epilogue to come Monday._


	12. Epilogue

Zoey awoke in a cold sweat. She jolted in the sheets, inhaling sharply, eyes going wide, before reality refocused itself. She drew in a few short breaths then slowed herself down, sitting up and pressing a hand to her face.

"Zo-Zo?" Candice inquired groggily from beside her in bed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Zoey bleated; her voice was heavy with phlegm. She forced it down, then added, "Just a bad dream." Candice started to sit up too, looking a little more awake. Zoey didn't want to be a bother, especially since Candice had her last class before winter break tomorrow, so she continued, "Don't worry. I need some air, that's all."

She got up, grabbed her coat hanging off the back of her chair, slipped on some shoes and stepped onto the outdoor balcony. It was below freezing, and it had snowed earlier in the day, but Zoey didn't mind that; she'd grown up in Snowpoint, and the cold didn't affect her too much.

She brought her phone with her, just as a distraction. It was still December 15th, barely. It was only a couple minutes until midnight December 16th. Zoey supposed she always felt a little off around this time of year, but it had never been quite this bad.

Zoey sought the comfort of her Chatot feed to calm her down. She had been busy in Hearthome working for most of the week, so she hadn't checked it much, and now was as good a time as any.

One of the first things that popped up on her feed was a photo from May captioned, "Aren't they precious?" It was of her tiny newborn daughter Allie and Gary and Leaf's seven-month-old son Briar outfitted in Christmas Haydens were visiting in Kanto and had, Zoey surmised, stopped by the Oaks to visit.

It perhaps might have struck her as odd, May and Drew putting their infant through interregional travel when she was barely a week old, had Zoey not known the reasons behind it. Adalet had yet to be inaugurated, but she had heard through the rumor mill (Dawn) that he was in the process of assembling a set of advisers from across different specialties. Coordinating was one of them, and Drew was on the short list. Zoey supposed his political science degree wasn't useless after all.

But it still bothered her. A lot, apparently—not about Allie, no, but that Drew was on the short list.

Adalet's election was momentous. It was an enormous leap in the right direction, the direction of a free and transparent democracy. But no matter how much she justified to herself that Drew was well-qualified (and oh, he was; he really was), she couldn't help but wonder: Would he be there were it not for his connections with the Championship?

And for that matter, would she be where she was were it not for her connections? No, definitely not. Thus, the question arose: Had anything _really_ changed? Weren't they all still wrapped up in a decade-old conspiracy, tightly knit in their secret, powerful in their uniform silence?

On an impulse, Zoey closed her Chatot and opened up her contacts. With a flick of her thumb, her finger hovered over Homa's name. She'd answer. Homa never turned her phone on silent in case news broke. Sure, she would be sleeping, and she might be mad at being woken up in the middle of the night, but she wouldn't be for long. How mad could she be after receiving, from her own reporter, the scoop of her life?: There were sixteen, not fourteen, children who "died" in that bus crash ten years ago, and one of them was Leaf Greene, and it was no coincidence that she, Iris, and Paul were Champions today.

The conspiracy did not end the day they came back from the dead on March 5th, 2002; it persisted, outstretched its claws, deepened its roots. It did not end the day Ash Ketchum rightfully earned his Championship title on August 29th, 2009. And worst of all, despite Zoey desperately hoping otherwise, it did not end on Election Day, November 8th, 2011.

Zoey's hand shook, and her breathing grew heavier. She realized she was on the edge of a panic attack. The last time she had one of those was just days after the conspiracy began, when she was forced into a lie that she was dead, when she had to listen to the same broadcast that told the world, that told Candice, that she was—

"Zoey?"

Zoey came back from the edge. She fumbled with her phone for a moment before letting it fall to her side. Her eyes stung powerfully. She wasn't actually crying; her eyes had just watered a little, and with it being as cold as it was…

"Are you okay?" Candice came to her side, resting a comforting hand on her back.

"Yeah." That was what Zoey was _going_ to say. It was her default setting to assure her others she was fine, regardless of whether she was or not. But her mouth disobeyed the rest of her being, as she found herself muttering, "No."

Candice looked terrifically worried then, and Zoey knew there was no backing out. She looked down at her phone's screen again. Her finger was still hovering over Homa's name, but with just an ounce of restraint, she scrolled a few names back up.

"Do you think Lucas would be pick up now?" Zoey asked, her voice shaking. It was most certainly past midnight by then.

"For you? Probably," Candice said.

That was all the assurance Zoey needed. She pulled his contact and tapped the call button.

Candice was right: It took a couple rings, but he picked up.

" _Zoey?_ " his voice was full with equal amounts of exhaustion and concern. It pricked her with guilt. " _Is everything all right?_ "

"Um," was all Zoey could say at first. Then she swallowed, steeled herself, and continued, "I'm sorry to call this late at night. But I need to talk to you. I need to talk to someone who doesn't know the truth. Otherwise, I think I'd make a decision I might regret tonight."

" _The truth about what?_ " Lucas sounded more awake now.

Zoey sucked in her breath.

"The Fourteen," she said.

There was a brief spell of silence on the other end of the line. Then: " _I'll be up there as soon as I can._ "

* * *

At that point, Zoey actually had no idea how much Lucas did or didn't know. The had not spoken once about the Fourteen the night since the Ketchum wedding, when Zoey figured Lucas's knowledge of her inner social circle derived from a fascination of the famed set of young trainers. She wasn't surprised or even all that weirded out by it. She imagined the affair probably was fascinating to anyone on the outside looking in.

But now Lucas was dating Barry. And if Barry hadn't said anything yet, someone eventually would, and Zoey figured it might as well be her.

Candice convinced Zoey to come back inside while they waited—no sense in getting frostbite in the midst of an emotional meltdown—and sure enough, Lucas arrived about an hour later, a little past 1 a.m., probably having sped on the empty roads all the way up to Snowpoint City.

Candice invited him inside and led him into the dimmed living room, where Zoey sat curled up on a large armchair in front of a roaring fireplace. Lucas pulled up a different chair close to her, and Candice plopped down on an ottoman.

Zoey inhaled a long, warm breath. "Thank you for coming," she said quietly. "You didn't have to—and—"

"It's okay," Lucas quickly assured her. "Don't worry about any of that. I wanted to come. Just talk to me."

Zoey had spent an hour rehearsing what she was going to say. No, scratch that. She had spent ten years rehearsing what she was going to say. She had always, always, wanted to say this, to speak the truth, but when the moment came, she suddenly did not know where to begin.

So she began with the one fact that changed everything about the story.

"There were actually sixteen of us," she said in barely above a whisper.

The rest, she found, came out easily. She was lucky her audience knew all the basics already—at least, the basics that had been paraded as the truth on talk shows, in headlines, through radio broadcasts… She didn't need to reiterate any of that. Just what lay beneath.

Lucas was an attentive listener. Zoey kept her eyes averted most of the time, but there were a couple of instances where she glanced his way for changes in his expressions. And there were, at a few pivotal points, some looks of awe discernible in the firelight. But never a look of judgment. That alone was a relief.

Candice was listening closely too, Zoey knew. Candice already knew the full story—she had gotten herself wrapped into it a little as well—but she wanted to lend her support regardless.

When Zoey finally finished, it was perhaps 2 a.m. Lucas said nothing at first. He was obviously thinking, and Zoey waited with bated breath. Then, carefully, he asked, "What made you decide to tell me this now?"

Candice shifted her position on the ottoman, leaning forward slightly. She was clearly most interested in this, Zoey realized. With good reason, for her behavior had probably been quite alarming to her fiancée.

"... I had a dream tonight. A nightmare," Zoey began. "I was on a bus. I don't know if it was supposed to have some connection to the bus that quote-on-quote 'crashed,' but whatever, I was on a bus. But this bus actually _did_ crash, pretty badly, and I was getting crushed beneath it. And as I was under it, I thought to myself, 'No one's going to know what really happened.'" She paused. "Isn't that awful? I was dying, and instead of thinking of Candice, or even my friends, I was thinking of—that whole mess."

Neither Lucas nor Candice said anything. Zoey looked away again.

"I feel like a fraud," she said. "I'm a journalist. I'm supposed to uncover the 'truth,' y'know, keep people accountable."

"You _do_ both those things," Candice pointed out. "Junia Stevens?"

"Yeah, but… then there's me," Zoey mumbled. "Then there's my friends. Leaf. Paul. Iris. Everyone." She dropped her head into her hand. "I almost called Homa tonight. I was prepared to tell her everything. I was prepared to come forward about it all. I only stopped myself because—" She looked up again. Lucas and Candice were watching her with anticipation. "—because it's not just me anymore. It's not even just them. They have _children_. This could ruin their lives. This could ruin our lives. So I told you—" She was speaking directly to Lucas then. "—because I had to tell _someone_ tonight."

Lucas was silent for a moment longer. Then, he said, slowly, "Well, I'm honored you trust me. Really, I am. I gotta say, though, I dunno if this would ruin your life if you told it."

Zoey looked at him curiously. He continued, "If anything, I think it's a testament to your resilience. You were just a kid. You all were. That's a lot for a bunch of kids to have on their shoulders. And in spite of that, look what you've done together. You've, uh, kind of made a democracy."

"'Kind of,'" Zoey emphasized, and Lucas offered her a crooked smile.

"It's more than anyone else has ever done for this country," he said.

Zoey managed half a laugh. Then she sighed. "Well… it can't ever be, not really, until everyone knows. Everyone has to know. I'm going to have to tell the story someday." She suddenly choked up when she went on, "I don't want my last thoughts to be full of regret."

Lucas nodded slowly, obviously thinking.

"Someday," he agreed, "but it doesn't have to be tonight."

"Right," Candice jumped in. "It doesn't have to be now. It can be when you're ready. It can be when _all_ of you are ready, whether that be in two days, a year, or ten years." She reached out and grasped Zoey's hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And in the meantime, everything else is as it should be."

Zoey took these words of reassurance to heart as Candice scooted closer and kissed her atop the nose. Lucas leaned in closer, too, resting his hand on her shoulder. Zoey found herself at ease again.

Everything else was as it should be. For now.

 **Fin.**


End file.
